


open roads, open hearts

by clarkescrusade (alindy)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 13:14:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 55,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2774291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alindy/pseuds/clarkescrusade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the death of her father, Clarke Griffin desperately needs to get away. Life without her father, with the ghost of her mother, is just too hard. So, with the help of her friends the road trip they've always dreamed of is put into action. The only problem? No car. </p><p>To be able to get away, Clarke must accept the help of Bellamy Blake or, more importantly, his car. The two of them, plus Raven, Finn, and Octavia, cross the country together, learning things along the way they could have never expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, thank [bellblaks](http://bellblaks.tumblr.com/) on tumblr for this idea (go check out her blog, it's amazing). She suggested it to me and I couldn't resist it. I've been a little obsessed with the idea of road trips lately, not to mention the idea of venturing into multichapter fanfiction again, so this emerged. 
> 
>  
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

A phone went off to her right, blaring AC/DC’s Highway to Hell so loudly several heads turned toward it. Clarke turned too, seeing her Aunt Shirley blush and pick up the phone. The ringtone itself was so blatantly inappropriate she saw some of her family cringe, and though most of the rest of her relatives turned away as Shirley began speaking in hushed tones, Clarke couldn’t seem to pull her eyes away from the scene from her safe location on the stairs.

Every action was shaky, unsure, and Clarke wondered morbidly how much her Aunt had cried when she had gotten the call saying her brother had died. Was she devastated, tears pouring and yells at God released? Or had she been like Clarke, incapable of letting anything out, only feeling a gaping hole in her chest in the space reserved for her father.

“There you are,” Octavia announced. “I should have known you would hide away on the stairs.”

Clarke eyed the black dress adorning Octavia’s body, the way it seemed to gracefully lay over her features and smiled slightly. It was nice to know that even when the shit hit the fan there were going to be constants, like the way Octavia always looked good with her petite features and consistently straight hair or the fact that, no matter what, she would always be her best friend.

“I stole the sugar cookies,” she declared, moving up the stairs and plopping next to her, “and I hope you realize that when I say stole I mean I literally went and grabbed the whole platter.”

Clarke eyed the plate and realized that Octavia was being entirely serious. She shook her head slightly and reached out to grab one. “Thank God,” Clarke sighed into the cookie. “Where’s Raven?’

“Your cousin, you know the one with the outrageous nose hair that’s like also a bazillion years old?”

“Yea, Carl.”

“Carl cornered her. He heard she’s really good with machines and is trying to get her to help him fix his DVD player.”

Clarke reached for another cookie, contemplating the words. It was weird to her that normal things, real life _average_ things, were still going on even though her Dad was dead. It felt wrong somehow.

“Your cousin Carl is a piece of work.” Raven appeared, yanking up the strap of her dress that couldn’t seem to stay up. She groaned at the dress, clearly frustrated, before looking up and noticing the plate of cookies. “Oh my god, yes,” she exclaimed, bounding up the steps and grabbing two right away.

“How many cookies do you think we can eat in one day before getting sick,” Octavia pondered aloud.

“I think it’s certainly a theory that deserves to be tested,” Raven replied.

“We need to leave,” Clarke blurted, the words hitting her all at once. Raven and Octavia both turned toward her, their faces carrying matching expressions of surprise. It wasn’t that the two had treated her any different the last week, but there was a new sense of trepidation with their actions. Like they were waiting to see if she would snap, and they were afraid to be the one to cause it.

“Sure, I can get Bellamy to come pick us up. He gets off of work in like ten minutes and he was going to stop by anyway. I mean, I know he isn’t really your favorite-”

“Octavia, breathe,” Clarke cut her babbling off. “I meant like our road trip.”

“Well, three weeks and then we’re free,” she provided.

“No, I, I can’t wait,” Clarke revealed, the realization hitting her. If she stayed inside this town, this house, for one more second she thought she very well might lose her mind. Sitting alone at home while her mother threw herself into her work, looking around herself at the remnants of a life that would never be the same again...none of it was the least bit appealing.

“We couldn’t convince our parents earlier, remember? And now with...everything, they’re barely letting us go at all,” Raven reminded.

“I know, but I can’t sit here anymore. I’ve been in this house alone for a week and it’s driving me crazy.”

“Ok, but none of us have a car, we were going to use…” Raven trailed off.

Her car. They were going to use her car, but now it was nothing more than a clump of meaningless metal in an impound lot. Now it was useless.

Octavia thought it over, wincing slightly when the solution hit her but she eyed them anyway, opening her mouth and spewing out the thought. “Well...I have an idea but you probably won’t like it.”

* * *

“Sorry Clarke,” Octavia apologized for the fourth time in six minutes. The three of them walked down Main Street, sweating slightly from the tickling of the sun at the back of their necks. With no car, they had no way to put their plan into action unless they faced the reality of walking, which they had been doing for a good fifteen minutes now.

“Why are you sorry again?” she replied.

“‘Cause you hate my brother,” she supplied

“I don’t hate your brother,” she sighed exasperatedly. Raven grunted next to her and kicked off her heels, bending down and picking them up. They hung delicately between her fingers as she swung them forward and backward with each step.

“Yea,” Raven supplied, “she thinks he’s really hot.”

“Hey!” Clarke exclaimed.

“It’s true!” Raven defended.

“I said that one time in a truth or dare game and that’s not even fair, everyone thinks he’s hot.”

“Hey! Ew,” Octavia piped up.

“Sorry O, it’s true,” Raven explained. “If I wasn’t currently in love with the car I’m fixing up in the back, I might have tried to get on that.”

“Don’t go too crazy. He’s still an asshole like half the time,” Clarke pointed out.

Octavia laughed at that, shaking her head and pointing them to turn down the next street. “The funny thing is, I’ve always seen you two as so alike.”

“Wow, why don’t you tell me how you really feel.”

“You’re not an asshole, Clarke, that’s not what I meant. But you’re both stubborn and opinionated and willing to do anything for the ones you care about. That’s why I’m so sure he’ll help us out.”

“He doesn’t care about me, though, why would he help us?”

“He cares about you!” Octavia exclaimed.

“Yea,” Clarke scoffed, “right.”

“You’ve known each other for, what, six years?” Raven pointed out.

“No, I’ve known Octavia for six years. He’s just...kinda been in the background. Our relationship has never consisted of anything besides banter and insults.”

“Well, either way, we’re here,” Raven noted, the three of them collectively coming to a halt in front of The Ark, the bar Bellamy worked at in his free time and on College breaks.

“Ok,” Clarke declared, taking a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

Octavia led the way in, probably assuming Bellamy would warm up to them the best if it was her face he saw first. Clarke was grateful for it, because as calm and collected as she looked on the outside, on the inside she was freaking out.

They saw him before he saw them. It was the first time Clarke had seen him since he had been home for Easter break, and though he didn’t look much different, she could see some slight changes. His hair was a little longer, more wild then he had been letting it go the last time, and he looked a lot let stressed than he had been in the past.

Clarke kind of hated how naturally good-looking Bellamy was. Wearing a white shirt, his arms looked impressive as he poured a drink for the guy in front of him and laughed at something he said. It was effortless for him, whereas Clarke couldn’t ever seem to keep her hair calm for the life of her. It just wasn’t fair, she contemplated. There was always something difficult to describe about why he was so appealing to girls, a secret held behind his dark eyes or a mystery carried on his shoulders, but no girl had ever stayed long enough to find out what exactly it was.

Bellamy looked up at the sound of the door crashing behind them and frowned at the sight of them. It set a whole new wave of worry through Clarke’s stomach.

“Octavia, get out,” he ordered, giving her a look that would probably make anyone who wasn’t Octavia run for their life.

“I thought your shift was supposed to be over,” she flung back, ignoring his words. Clarke began walking toward him, and all three of them perched themselves up on the bar stools across from him.

“Murphy’s sick,” he replied. “Aren’t you guys supposed to be at Clarke’s still?”

Clarke liked the way Bellamy was straightforward about it, she could admit that. He wasn’t crass about her father’s death, but he didn’t pretend it hadn’t happened at all. He didn't make the air feel like it was weighed down like others had, like Finn had when she’d talked to him earlier this morning.

“We brought you sugar cookies,” Raven remarked, throwing up the ziploc bag they had hastily thrown the remaining cookies into before they left, just in case they needed the sustenance, onto the bar.

Bellamy narrowed his eyes. “What do you want?”

“What are you doing for like, the next three weeks?” Octavia proposed, the words coming out so forcefully nonchalant, the strain clear in her voice.

“We need your car,” Clarke finally spoke up. Bellamy snapped his head toward her, a smirk finding a spot on his lips.

“For three weeks? Why would I do that?’

“Because you love me?” Octavia tried.

“No,” he retorted. “What do you even need it for?”

“Road trip,” Clarke proclaimed. “We don’t have a car, which puts a bit of a hinge in our plans.”

Bellamy’s eyes softened a bit at that, knowing full well why they were car-less, but his smirk was only gone for half a second before it was right back in full force.

“And how would I be paid for my services?”

“You get the imponderable joy of joining us on said road trip, you perv,” Clarke answered. He narrowed his eyes at her slightly.

“So you three and me in a car together for three weeks?”

“And Finn,” Raven added, the three of them turning toward her. “What? If we’re going to break the rules, we might as well break all of them.”

“I mean,” Clarke suggested, “you could just give us the car and stay here…”

“Not a chance,” he snapped. “You do realize how horrendous this will probably turn out, right?”

“Ye of little faith,” she replied.

“Please, Bell?” Octavia added for good measure.

Raven didn’t say anything, but she slid the bag of sugar cookies closer to him. His face was hard, but finally his whole body seemed to relent and he didn’t have to say anything for them to know he had given in.

“Yes!” Octavia cheered, and Clarke couldn’t refuse the smile that broke across her face. Soon, she could be out of this stupid town and all the dark memories it seemed to invoke in her. Soon it would be long stretches of highway, wind flitting through open car windows, and, most importantly, _freedom_.

“But I’m taking the cookies,” he asserted. “Now get out of the bar.”

“If I didn’t hate you so much I would kiss you,” Clarke stated, slipping off of the bar stool and sending a smile in his direction.

“You always speak so pretty, princess,” he joked, waving a little as they moved toward the door. Clarke looked over her shoulder and flipped him off, getting a wink in response that she couldn’t help but roll her eyes at.

The three of them did as they were told, just this once, and got out of the bar. It was hard to argue with someone who had just given them exactly what they wanted, and in less than 24 hours they would be gone. Clarke reveled in the possibility of being out of this town, out of this world, and away from the chains of this town than would no longer be holding them down.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road trip begins

The short beep of the car horn alerted Clarke to Octavia and Bellamy’s arrival. She grabbed the duffel off of her bed, slipping on her shoes quickly, before nodding and accepting her fate. It was a quick signal, and she knew it was time to finally make her escape.

Clarke opened the side window, throwing the duffel bag out and watching it careen to the ground. Grabbing her backpack stuffed to the brim with the last of her necessities, she flung it over her shoulder and took a deep breath. She looked back around her quickly, just to make sure she hadn’t left anything behind that was important, but saw nothing. This room, all showcasing parts of herself she wasn’t even sure she was anymore, held nothing more she could possibly need. All she wanted was out, away; from herself or her life or this house she wasn’t quite certain of, but she had a feeling it was probably all three.

Clarke couldn’t help but think about the letter currently sitting on her kitchen counter, the one her mom would find in about two hours if her estimations proved correct. Last night she had slaved over the words, checking over her grammar a million times like the difference between her putting a comma here or there would make her mom happy or not. Problems may have existed between her and her mom, no doubt, but she also didn’t want her to worry more than she had to. Well, maybe that wasn’t entirely true. If Clarke didn’t want her mother to have to worry more than she needed to, she probably wouldn’t be doing this at all.

The car beeped again, and she knew it was time to leave. Sending one last glance over her shoulder, she threw her leg over the window and stepped her foot on the trellis. She reached up and shimmied the window back closed to the best of her ability from her precarious position. With one last grunt, she shut the window and turned toward the tree nested next to the side of her house, leaping at the branch.

There was always a brief second before Clarke’s hands grabbed onto the branch when she thought she would miss and fall straight down. The branch itself wasn’t _too_ high, she certainly wouldn’t die or anything, but there was something dangerous enough about it to make Clarke feel alive when she jumped. There was a second when all there was around Clarke was air and for one glorious split of a second, it felt like she could fly, like nothing could touch her. A second later reality always came stumbling back in, her hands clasping onto the branch and safety yet again.

Her hands grabbed on and she felt the rough bark beneath her hands. She shimmied her way closer to the tree, reminiscing for a moment of schoolyard days and monkey bars, before she finally found the branch beneath her feet. A minute later, Clarke was back on the ground, letting out a deep breath and smiling triumphantly.

Grabbing the duffel, Clarke made her way toward Bellamy’s beat up old minivan. His car was the kind she would purposefully walk by a little quicker, just because of the sort of dark vibe it emitted, but it certainly didn’t stop her from hopping in anyway.

“Clarke, you are such a badass. Marry me, why don’t you,” Octavia squealed, sighing in faux-astonishment.

Bellamy snorted and Clarke rolled her eyes at him in response. She had already had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn’t going to be impressed by her antics, but she didn’t really care anyway. Bellamy Blake could think anything he wanted, hell, he could _do_ anything he wanted as long as he promised them the car and didn’t back out.

“I’m glad someone is amused by me,” Clarke replied with a hugely fake smile in Octavia’s direction. Octavia stuck her tongue at her before turning back to the front. “Let’s go.”

“No please? Manners,” Bellamy replied, sending her a challenging look. Clarke huffed before turning toward him, touching his arm dramatically and widening her eyes.

“Please, please, please can we go, your highness?”

“Oh,” he replied, his voice dripping sarcasm. “I would do anything for you, princess.”

“Yay, so glad that nickname is making a comeback.”

“This is going to be just so much fun,” Octavia groaned, more to herself than anyone else. “Let’s just get Finn and Raven.”

Clarke kinda felt bad about being so obnoxious, so she decided to shut her mouth as Bellamy bumpily pulled away from the curb. This was the way their relationship had always been, rocky at best, like hot and cold air mixing together ferociously. In a weird way, she knew he cared about her the same way she did of him. They’d never had a deep bond or anything, but they were kinda friends in a loose sense of the word, they had certainly known each other long enough. If it came down to it, at the end of the day, he would be willing to protect her, or at least she thought he would. It may have not sounded like much, but from Bellamy Blake that was a high compliment.

Raven said nothing as she slumped into the car, Finn trailing behind her. It was clear this time in the morning didn’t go well with Raven, and Finn seemed to notice and respond accordingly. It was a testament to how terrifying a mad Raven would be that nobody said anything as she pushed her way into the car and plopped down.

“Coffee,” she pleaded.

“We’re not stopping,” Bellamy stated.

“Good thing it has a drive through,” she countered, raising an eyebrow in challenge. Bellamy shook his head slightly, but he didn’t complain as he pulled off and went through the window, getting Raven her coffee (black, two sugars), Octavia a frappuccino (Octavia, what the fuck does that even _mean_?), and Clarke and Finn each a bagel (Bellamy, if you don’t ask for cream cheese I will literally murder you).

“We’re not stopping until I need to fill up this tank so you children better keep it together until then,” Bellamy ordered, but everyone was too happy to say anything else, Raven even going as far as to throw her arms around him and the seat, despite him driving, and calling him the God of caffeine. She purposefully ignored the yell he sent back about getting them all killed.

Clarke may have had to sit next to Finn and the radio may have been playing absolutely horrendous Classic Rock covers, but with the fresh air spiraling around her and the laughter echoing through the car, none of it seemed to matter at all.

* * *

It wasn’t until lunch that they needed to stop again, from both hunger and an empty tank. They stopped at a hole in the wall diner that looked so idyllically road trip they couldn’t _not_ stop. Well, that’s what Octavia had said, but Clarke had heard Bellamy mumble something about not wanting to find a fiver star restaurant for the princess. Clarke chose to ignore it.

A half hour or so later, they were back on the road, the only difference being Octavia in the way back so she could lay out and Clarke in the front for navigational purposes.

“Look at the kids, they’re so cute,” Clarke joked, looking over the shoulder at them. Octavia was passed out on the back seat, limbs sprawled in a million different directions and hair flying around her. Finn and Raven were watching a movie on the laptop she had brought along, both emitting a small chuckle at the same time at some joke Clarke would never know.

“That’s implying that you are not a kid,” he pointed out.

“Do you think I’m a kid?” she tested. Truth was, she didn’t feel like a kid. Even before everything she hadn’t felt like a kid. The abundance of nights she had spent alone while her parents worked; the times she felt like she had to watch out for Raven, to make sure her Dad was providing the basics between his drunken bursts; and the stress put on her to be better all had made her grow up quicker. But now, after the flash of headlights and waking up in the hospital and seeing the casket lower down into the ground...now she felt a million years old, like she would never know again what it felt like to hold the secrets of youth.

“No,” Bellamy broke her thoughts. His eyes grazed over her for a second too long before pulling themselves back onto the road, “you aren’t.”

Bellamy reached his hand out, slowly increasing the volume of the radio. Clarke couldn’t help but hum underneath her breath. Propping her feet up on the dash, she opened up the map they had purchased on their last stop and laid it over her legs.

“No respect for the car? Really?”

“You have seen the car, right?” Clarke shot back.

“Disrespectful. Especially for a guy who took off work for three weeks so he could cart your sorry ass around.”

“Apologies!” Clarke exclaimed, holding her hands up in surrender. She slammed her feet down purposefully.

“Fine,” he groaned, “put them back up.”

“Thank you,” she returned, smiling genuinely at the exasperated eye roll he sent her way.

It was strange for them to talk so privately. For as long as she had known Bellamy, they had never really had a conversation that consisted of more than verbal sparring, and most certainly never a conversation away from the eyes and ears of others. As she heard him humming under his breath too, she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe that would change.

“What’s up with them?” he asked. Clarke didn’t understand who he was talking about at first, but then she noticed his small gesture toward Raven and Finn and the words made sense.

“Raven! Hey, do you remember that one time you made out with Hairy Jerry so he wouldn’t ask you to partner up for your Autos final?” Clarke called, purposefully a little abrasively louder than necessary. Bellamy shot her a confused look and she shrugged her shoulders. “I was trying to test to make sure they couldn’t hear us. Trust me, they can’t.”

“Is that something that actually happened?”

“Ask her if you want to know, I’m most certainly not commenting on that,” Clarke replied. She shot another look over her shoulder, at the two of them pushed up close together so they could see the screen, and wondered if there was anything in the whole world that could pull them apart. If it hadn’t happened yet, she kinda doubted it. “They’re friends.”

“Just friends?” he questioned.

“Just friends, I mean, you do know the whole drama, right? I’m sure Octavia would have told you and probably made it sound about a hundred times more dramatic than it really was in the process.”

It was a pretty tired story as far as Clarke was concerned. Finn had been the new kid and she had been stupid, falling too hard and too fast. By the time she learned he had a girlfriend at another school who just so happened to _also_ be transferring, it was a blow straight to the heart.

All things considered, though, it all could have ended up far worse. Sure, she still kinda hated Finn and she would never be able to trust him, but she had gotten one of the best friends she’d ever had out of it. That certainly had to count for something.

“Yea, I do, but I guess I’m just surprised by them,” he replied.

“Besides Raven’s intense ability to forgive,” Clarke began, “she’s also known him her entire life. I guess at the end of the day she needed him more than she needed to hate him.”

“Wow, yoda,” Bellamy snorted.

“Oh shove off, Jackass,” Clarke fired back, but the laughter that filtered between her words gave her away.

“You always have the sweetest nicknames for me,” he joked. She snorted. “So attractive.”

“Well, it is my only mission in life to have you find me attractive, so I’m so glad I’m getting closer.”

“Always so much bite, Griffin.”

“What, like you’re the innocent one here?”

“I am a bystander here, you dragged me into this,” Bellamy accused. Clarke eyed Octavia in the rearview mirror after hearing a shuffle, but she seemed to be unaltered by their argument.

“You do remember how this started, right? Cause it wasn’t me,” Clarke argued.

“What are you talking about?” he prodded.

“When Octavia and I started being friends I would come over a lot. It was middle school, so young me wasn’t the most socially normal of people, but that’s not the point. The point is, I asked about the band shirt you were wearing and you stuck gum in my hair. It wouldn’t even come out, I practically had to go bald because of you.”

“That’s not how it happened at all.”

“Yes it is!”

“Definitely not,” Bellamy elaborated. “You asked about the band shirt, I insulted some boy band you were drooling all over and you spilled grape juice all over me on purpose. You ruined that stupid shirt.”

“Are you serious? That’s how you remember it?” she exclaimed.

“That’s not how I remember it, that’s how it happened.”

All this time they had both thought such contrasting things, fighting in a fight they didn’t even know who had started in the first place. Had that murky incident lead them here? Would they still be in this car if life was different, if they had become friends all that time ago?

A month ago, if her and Bellamy had had this argument, there was not a doubt in Clarke’s mind that she would have fought to her dying breath. That need to be right, the constant pressure for success, it still hid right underneath her skin, but it had already faded slightly. When something truly horrendous happened, it was hard to imagine you would ever be even remotely capable of being perfect again, so Clarke had chucked it out the window. Well, she was still working on it, still certainly a work in progress, but working on it all the same.

Thinking over it, Clarke couldn’t help but laugh. It was funny, _really_ funny.

“What?” Bellamy snapped.

“It’s just, we don’t even know who started our rivalry. It is entirely possible that no one even started it at all and this,” she waved her arms around wildly between them “is because of random chance. We have zero way of looking back and checking what really happened. All we have are our memories.”

“You didn’t pour the grape juice on purpose?”

“I don’t even remember the grape juice, so no comment.”

Bellamy seemed to think through the words, shaking his head and glancing toward her.

“We’ll never know.”

“We’ll never know,” Clarke repeated.

“It wasn’t a total accident, though,” Bellamy offered.

“And why’s that? Please don’t tell me you’re going to start talking about fate or something.”

“No,” Bellamy answered through a smirk, “the gum? It was retaliation for the grape juice. I 100% meant to do it.”

“Oh wow, even a gentleman back then,” she scoffed.

“Only for you princess,” he provided, “only for you.”

* * *

Clarke didn’t know when it happened, but at some point the front seat had been declared hers. Octavia had pointed out that she couldn’t read a map, and though Clarke assured her it really wasn’t that hard, Octavia had waved her away and declared she preferred it back there anyway.

“You’re tired,” Octavia called from the backseat. While Finn and Raven had both crashed about an hour earlier, it would seem that Octavia’s nap had given her a burst of energy. Clarke, being the night person she was, felt fairly good for the time of night, but looking over at Bellamy, it was clear he was starting to feel fatigue. His eyes looked heavy, his whole body weighed down, and Clarke worried about the tenseness in his body.

“She’s right,” Clarke added.

  
Bellamy turned toward her and sent a glare. “Traitor.”

“You can’t just drive tired, you’ve been driving all day nonstop,” Octavia proclaimed.

“We need to get some distance between us before we stop, especially since you guys decided to leave like fugitives, and we can’t stop for a motel,” Bellamy defended.

“Here’s a novel idea...let me drive,” Clarke declared, watching the glare he sent her way.

“No one drives my car,” he spit back.

“Well then don’t get so tired,” she exclaimed. Bellamy seemed to get dejected at that, raising a hand from the wheel to rub across his face.

“I’ve been up for 24 hours,” he admitted, wincing at the release of the words. Clarke wondered why he hadn’t slept, whether it was just because he’d had things to do or for some other reason, some thought raging through his mind and refusing to let him go.

“Pull over,” Clarke told him. Her voice was soft, but it also held a certain push. She noticed Bellamy relent slightly at that, a softening in his shoulders, but his hands clenched a little tighter on the wheel.

It was hard to give up control sometimes, Clarke could empathize with him on that. To Bellamy the car was a symbol of his own hard work, being behind the wheel his control of the situation, but no one could hold onto everything forever. Eventually it became too much, and the world crumbled around you. No lifeboat, no safety net, just shards of glass and clumps of rocks and no footholds.

“I promise to be careful with her,” she assured him. “I got a perfect score on my driving test.”

“Of course you did,” he scoffed. For a second Clarke thought he might try to fight a little longer, but then he eased the car to the side of the road. Octavia moved to the front, giving Bellamy the back to sprawl out, and Clarke took the keys graciously from Bellamy as he passed.

“The idiot is already asleep,” Octavia chuckled a few minutes later, watching the soft raising of his chest. Clarke spared a quick glance in the rear view mirror and noticed how peaceful he looked. Instead of the mysterious mischievousness he always seemed to carry, he actually looked rather sweet asleep, puerile almost.

“Why hadn’t he slept at all?”

“The shift at the bar ended up going longer than expected and when he got home I forced him into packing. I didn’t trust him to do it in the morning; I know his bag would just be filled with odds and ends and he’d be screwed,” Octavia supplied.

“I can’t believe he’s barely slept,” Clarke stated. “He could have fallen asleep at the wheel.”

“Naw, he’s a fairly functional insomniac. He doesn’t sleep much in general,” Octavia spoke, her eyes continuously flickering back over her shoulder at his sleeping form.

“Why doesn’t he sleep?”

“Honestly?” Octavia began. “I think it started when our dad was still around. I was such a sound sleeper, always have been, but when my parents would fight Bellamy could never sleep. It probably had to do with worry about me too, he never wanted me to be afraid, but I guess after a while it became a habit. Even after the bastard left he still barely slept. Sometimes I almost feel guilty about it.”

“Guilty?”

“Yea, in a way it’s my fault. He’s always been so stuck on protecting me,” Octavia expanded.

“You never asked him to,” Clarke reasoned.

“Oh, trust me, I’ve mentioned that one a time or two, mostly in heated arguments, but when he cares he cares a lot. It’s a family trait.”

“It most certainly is,” Clarke agreed, sending a grin in her direction. Octavia returned it happily.

“Do you think your mom is mad?” Octavia questioned.

“She probably hasn't even come home from the hospital yet.”

“Are you going to call her?”

“I was kinda just planning on waiting to see how long it takes for her to notice. I figured I might be able to make the whole trip there and back without her noticing,” Clarke joked.

“You mock, but you do know your mom loves you, right?” Octavia proposed.

“Yea,” Clarke assured her, “of course.”

And in a way, forgetting all the ignoring and the striving for perfection and the eyes that so often seemed to scan over her while they were thinking of something else, she did know that her mother loved her.

She just wondered when it stopped feeling like enough.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chap still feels kinda like setup, but I think we're really going to start delving into this story next chapter. Hope you stick around, haha.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke is faced with the reality of a call from Abby while Bellamy is not too excited to find out about who they will be seeing later that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is really going to be filled with some fun things, but I hope you guys like this one as well. Please leave any comments you have in reviews, they really help me to know what y'all are thinking! Also let me know if there are any serious grammatical errors, not as much editing went into this chapter as the past two.

Despite Octavia’s initial enthusiasm to stay awake and socialize with Clarke, she found herself dosing off several hours later. Clarke understood the sleepiness that overtook one as they sat in the passenger seat, how it could so easily slip over someone without them meaning for it to at all, so she drove the silent car by herself, feeling oddly alone on the dark highway but finding herself comforted knowing that her friends were sleeping soundly around her.

When the sky started to streak with pastel colors and Clarke released a yawn, she took it as a signal that it was time to pull over. Looking back at Bellamy and the sound sleep (as sound as sleep can be in the back of a van) he was having, she found herself lacking the heart to wake him up. He just looked too blissfully unaware, like it would be a cruel punishment to take him from the great escape he had found himself in.

She saw the sign as she careened off the highway, chuckling slightly to herself as she decided to stop. After going through a quick drive through and picking up a few coffees, she followed the appropriate signage until she had found the spot and pulled into a parking spot. Clarke turned the key and listened to the car’s roar of life disappear.

The air held only the slightest bit of chill as she pushed out of the vehicle, the kind of bite air tended to have in the early morning, and Clarke pulled her sweater the littlest bit tighter as she moved toward the headlights. As she climbed up on the front of the car, the windshield laying behind her back, her eyes wandered over the streaks of color; she couldn’t help but wish she had pulled out a sketch pad and a set of cray-pas, colored pencils, _anything_ to depict the colors of the miracle in front of her. The colors, the majesty, it soothed her. Artful things always had.

Clarke jolted as her phone buzzed to life in her pocket. Hoping the sound hadn’t pummeled through the windshield or the doors and into the cab, she clicked answer on instinct and and dragged it up to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Clarke Griffin,” her mother responded. Abby’s words were terse, tight, and though she wasn’t yelling Clarke could tell that her mother could snap at any moment. She was wound tightly with every emotion, always had been, and it was always a surprise to see what way exactly she ended up snapping. It had only happened a few times in Clarke’s life, only enough for her to be able to count on one hand, but when Abby snapped she snapped hard, her emotions bursting from her like a tsunami wave.

“Hey mom,” Clarke replied with a sigh. If she had seen the caller ID, she most likely wouldn’t have answered, but answer she had, and now she was dealing with the consequences of that decision.

“Did you really think leaving a note was going to make me not worry?”

“I thought it was better than no note,” she defended.

“It would have been better if you hadn’t left at all. Raven’s dad called me saying Finn’s mom was freaking out. Did you think any of this through?”

“I thought I would let the homeless drug dealer I’ve snatched a ride with figure it all out for me.”

“Now is not the time for your jokes. I’ve been worried sick.”

“Really?” Clarke exploded. She could feel a heat rising up her neck, over her ears, and most definitely in her thoughts. “Because it doesn’t even sound like you found my note until after Mr. Reyes told you something was wrong. Which means you either hadn't been home or had been so oblivious you didn’t even realize anything was up. Definitely sounds like you were just _dying_ with worry.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Clarke, but I’ve had a lot going on lately.”

A jolt went straight to Clarke’s heart. Was her mother trying to insinuate that Clarke wasn’t having problems of her own to deal with? Because her mother certainly wasn’t the only person grieving. Clarke felt like she was drowning underwater, like her lungs were begging for air but all they could bring in was a solid gulp of water, sinking her further down.

When Clarke had gotten like this in the past, in situations where her emotions were overwhelming or something was bothering her, she had always had her father to help her. Jake had worked just as much as her mom truthfully, but he was always able to see the look in her eyes of desperation that was begging for help when she was too stubborn to do so verbally. Now there was no buffer, nothing to help keep her sane and capable of dealing with her mother and her emotions. At the base of it all, Clarke felt truly lost. It was not a feeling she liked having.

“And I don’t?” Clarke proposed. As strong as she had meant for the words to be, they had ended up falling out pretty flat. Clarke had never wanted to sound pathetic by any means, but the words had ended up fairly lifeless, like all the bite had been kicked right out of them.

“You acting like a child is making my life monumentally more difficult,” she replied. In her words, Clarke saw a clear picture of what her mother probably looked like right now. Pursed lips, beady eyes, probably leaning against a table or counter so she could start pacing at a moment’s notice, it was like Clarke was right there in the room with her..

“I have my insurance, ID, and emergency contacts all near and close on hand. I have a good chunk of cash stored in several different bags for safety from all my babysitting and working at the veterinary clinic. I also have my debit card with enough saved in my account to cover any emergencies or a plane ride home. I even have an EpiPen sitting in my purse in case Octavia gets stung by a bee and a first aid kit sitting in the trunk. Please don’t call me a child and please don’t insinuate that I didn’t plan this out. The truth, the honest to God truth, is that I haven't been a child since you left me alone and told me to fend for myself. Don’t come back and try to take back the control you relinquished a long time ago, because it just isn’t fair to me in the slightest.”

“Clarke,” her mom began.

“I love you mom, I really do, but to be fully truthful with you, I just don’t like you all that much right now.”

A breath escaped Clarke’s lips, soft but strong, and Clarke felt like for the first time in a long time she had said something truly freeing. She didn’t feel better exactly, the words had added something new to sit on her, something she didn’t like that much, but the breath had also carried a certain weight away from her.

“That hurts,” Abby stated suddenly, and Clarke almost wanted to laugh at the crispness of the statement.

“The truth has a funny way of doing that I’m afraid.”

Abby let out a breath of her own over the line and for a second Clarke thought she might say something. She might say something truthful, something real, but then Clarke could almost feel the transition back into tightness and it left her feeling tighter too.

“I have to go to work,” Abby stated.

“You always do,” she muttered. “I’ll give you an update in a few days.”

“Be safe,” her mother replied, but then the line snapped silent, and Clarke knew she was alone again.

“That seemed a bit intense.”

Clarke lazily moved her head toward the voice. Before her eyes landed on him she knew already it was Finn, but she didn’t want to respond too quickly and have him think she cared more than she did.

“Also like none of your business,” she quipped.

Finn bent down, coming back up with a coffee from her tray and leaning against the headlight.

“Don’t you think maybe you were being a little too harsh?”

“No,” she snapped. Clarke really didn’t want to be mean to Finn all the time, but it was really hard not to when he seemed to always take the moral high ground; especially when the moral high ground always happened to personally correlate to what he believed to be the right answer. Unless of course it had to do with banging girls when he already had a girlfriend, Clarke supposed, then the lines of morality were allowed to be blurred.

“Are you ever going to forgive me?”

There was a part of Clarke that really, truly wanted to forgive Finn. It was exhausting to always be mad at someone, to feel the need to guard yourself and watch what you say, but she couldn’t seem to help it. Maybe a part of herself had forgiven him, but she certainly couldn’t trust him, and trust was such an important part of a relationship as far as Clarke was concerned that it was hard to look at him some days. When it came down to it, she just wasn’t capable of seeing him the same way anymore.

“I think,” Clarke began, “that we should go to a shitty bar tonight and drink more than we should.”

Finn laughed, shaking his head at her antics, but agreeing all the same. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

A car door slammed behind them, and Finn and Clarke turned their heads simultaneously to see the three stragglers walking toward them in different states of disarray, the car door clearly having been slammed shut by a grumpy Raven.

“We’re getting a motel room tonight, no discussion,” Raven declared, seeing the tray of coffees and grabbing one greedily.

“We'll sleep somewhere tonight that isn't the car, I promise. It's all part of my plan for the evening.”

“And what would that plan be?” Raven asked.

“Clarke wants to get smashed,” Finn supplied.

“I don't believe those were the words I used.”

Finn simply shrugged in response.

“I don’t care what words you used, that is a plan I can get behind,” Octavia supplied.

“You are underage, you get that, right?” Bellamy grumbled. Clarke noticed him for the first time, finally seeing what sleepy morning Bellamy looked like. His hair was ruffled, messy, and his eyes seemed droopy still, still holding some of the qualities of sleep. He looked sinful, Clarke’s mind proclaimed, but then she winced at her own thoughts and quickly stopped her staring.

“You bought us champagne on New Year’s, get off your high horse,” Clarke argued.

“That’s a little different than watching and condoning you all getting wasted.”

“Easy solution, don’t watch,” she provided, sending a childish smile that reeked of victory. He scowled back but didn’t continue the argument.

“Where are we right now?” Raven asked, and as the words evacuated it occurred to everyone else they were unaware.

“We are currently at a civil war battlefield,” Clarke answered cheerfully. “After googling it I’ve realized it may be the most insignificant battlefield of all time, but I think that kinda makes it more interesting in a way.”

“It just looks like a big field,” Octavia stated, tilting her head to the side like it might turn into something different, like maybe some secret would pop up out of the blue and reveal itself.

“It _is_ a field,” Bellamy stated.

“It’s a field with a path,” Clarke pointed out. All five pairs of eyes sought it out, and like they all knew exactly what had to be done, they all began to move towards it.

“You need help down?” Bellamy broke the silence. Clarke had kinda forgotten he was there, so she was shocked for a split second by the timbre of his voice.

Clarke ignored the sensation to be stubborn and gave a curt nod in response. He stepped forward, grabbing on to her waist lightly while she placed her own hands on his shoulders, letting herself be eased down. For a second there seemed to be only a breath between them, but then Octavia laughed obnoxiously loud from somewhere in the distance and the trance was broken. Bellamy took a step backward, and Clarke was almost grateful for the space.

“Thanks,” Clarke cleared her throat. The two of them followed the other three, watching as Finn and Octavia talked animatedly about something before running off and disappearing into the trees. Raven trailed several paces behind calmly, seemingly content to walk with her thoughts and her coffee as her only company.

“How do they have so much energy?” Bellamy broke the silence. Clarke was grateful for it, for she rather preferred the sound of Bellamy’s voice to the jumble of thoughts she currently had raging inside her head.

“It’s a wonder to me,” Clarke deadpanned.

“How far did you drive?”

“I drove all through the night, only stopping once for gas, so we’ve made pretty good distance.”

Clarke and Bellamy walked in silence, following the curve of the path. Clarke liked being around trees, there was something about it that made her feel bizarrely calm. The smell, the green, she wasn’t sure what it was, but she was grateful all the same.

“Thank you,” Clarke proclaimed. She hadn’t really meant to say it, but now that the words were out she realized how true they really were. Clarke had felt so trapped and, in his own way, Bellamy had helped make her feel free. She knew she would forever be thankful for that.

“For what?” he replied.

“Letting us use the car,” Clarke supplied. Her mind had wanted to answer a million other things that had gotten stuck in her throat. She had wanted to answer that she was thankful that he had set her free, that he had helped her, that he had _saved_ her, but her lips would not allow for the admission. There was something startling about the way Bellamy’s eyes seemed to gleam like they knew, like the words hiding behind the half truth she had just spouted were clearly visible to him. It sent a small chill down Clarke’s back and she had to look away.

“Not a problem. So far you’ve only been the expected spoiled brat about half of the time.”

“And in return you’ve been a complete asshole only about half of the time.”

Bellamy laughed and Clarke couldn’t help but revel in the sound of it. It put a smile on her face. A smile that only grew wider as they made their way out of the brush to see Octavia and Finn proudly standing on the top of a large roll of hay, probably just about as tall as Clarke herself. Raven was laying nearby, her arms peacefully extended away from herself.

“By the way,” Clarke began deviously, “we’re only about an hour away from Ark and the University.”

“So? What does that- oh no,” he broke off, cringing as the realization hit. “Please tell me we are not stopping to see the idiots-”

“Hey, Octavia!” Clarke exclaimed joyfully, cutting off Bellamy’s words. “We’re only an hour away from Ark...guess who we’re seeing tonight!”

“Ahhhh!” Octavia screamed brashly, jumping up once before doing a little happy dance that made Clarke puff out a giggle. “Jasper and Monty!” she yelled enthusiastically in answer.

“Oh God,” he groaned, rubbing a hand down his face dramatically.

“You love them, just admit it,” Clarke stated, bumping her shoulder into his. Bellamy looked up and over to her, his eyes staring at her jokingly through thin slits.

“I take it all back,” Bellamy grumbled. “You are _such_ a spoiled brat.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang drives to Monty and Jasper and prepares for a night out on the town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how long it has taken me, life has just been really hectic. I'm going to try to be a lot more consistent, scout's honor! Also I know you probably thought we would see Jasper and Monty this chapter, but then it would have been freakishly long so they'll be here in the next chapter.

“Stop sulking,” Clarke warned, enjoying the glare received in reply. There was something weirdly enjoyable about getting under Bellamy’s skin, and she felt the grin take over her features.

“How can anyone hate Monty and Jasper?” Finn stated to no one in particular. Octavia agreed with a hearty nod, her energy still just as high as when it was first announced where they were going. Before Raven or Finn had ever arrived in the picture, Clarke, Octavia, and the two boys were a tight-knit unit just by themselves. It hadn’t been difficult to integrate Raven and Finn, but there was the simple fact that Octavia and Clarke had known them longer, and their absence was taking a toll on them all. Octavia had handled it a lot worse than Clarke when they announced they had to go to Ark University for a special biochemistry Summer program they had been accepted in, but Clarke missed them just as deeply. It was hard not to miss them uncontrollably, even with the knowledge that the end of the summer would bring them all together again.

“They blew up our microwave,” Bellamy stated.

“One time!” Octavia replied.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know there was a one time leeway on microwave explosions.”

“Certainly one event didn’t make you hate them,” Clarke tested.

“You’re right,” Bellamy conceded, “it didn’t make me hate them, it only made me hate Jasper. Monty is actually pretty cool.”

“You secretly love them both,” Octavia argued.

“Better get used to them, you’ll be at the same University next year,” Clarke pointed out.

“With all of us,” Raven added.

“Don’t remind me,” he grumbled.

Clarke couldn’t help the smile that etched across her face. She noticed Bellamy’s eyes flickering to it from his spot behind the wheel, his lips trying with all their might to push away the grin that wanted to take its rightful place, but she decided she would let this one slide. There was a part of Clarke that was terribly scared if she mentioned or pointed out that Bellamy actually had a soft side to him too often, teased him because it was just too tempting _not_ too, he would hide himself away even more. Bellamy Blake was already far too reserved behind those high walls he had built as far as Clarke was concerned, and she couldn’t deny that she kinda hoped he could get coaxed out from his hiding place. There was something magnetizing about his smile and laugh when he did it with total abandon, something that made her eyes stick on him for handfuls of seconds too long.

“Do you really not like them?” she asked him softly, glancing back to see Octavia reliving and reenacting the microwave scenario, her hands moving with extravagant flourishes.

“I hate everyone, princess,” he argued, but Clarke had an awfully hard time believing that. Sure, Bellamy was rough around the edges, but that’s just how he _was_. Even with Octavia he was rarely ever over-talkative when it came to feelings; Bellamy was a man of action who believed that love, caring, could only be proven in the tangible actions. You grabbed someone a blanket when they were cold, helped them with homework, made them hot water for tea even when you preferred coffee...love could only be measured by strong signs and gestures. Clarke was fairly certain she hadn’t once heard Bellamy tell Octavia he loved her, and that was one of the most certain truths Clarke knew.

Clarke couldn’t help but wonder what that would be like, to know someone would go to the ends of the Earth for you no matter the wrong turns you made. Octavia could murder someone and Bellamy would still be soundly by her side, no questions asked. The heat of it frightened Clarke in a way, made the hair on the back of her neck stand up straight. Again she was struck by the capacity of Bellamy Blake’s heart. When he finally decided to let someone in to that big, goddamn ironclad heart of his, Clarke knew he would succeed at it in that annoying way he seemed to always succeed. She would be lucky, Clarke decided (albeit a bit jealously).

Clarke had touched the flame before, but only lightly, and certainly never had someone love her with such passion as Bellamy would love someone. In the past, Clarke had a few people who had truly touched her, cared for her above all else. There had been Wells, once upon a time, but despite being the one person she could confide entirely in, the one she would trust her secrets most ardently to, he had moved away right before their freshman year.

Thank God for Octavia Blake, though. First day of school and she had come in like a burst of sunshine despite Clarke feeling like, for lack of a better phrase, a total sack of shit, and told her they would turn the year around. Just because their third musketeer had left didn’t mean they were hopeless. In walked Jasper and Monty and the rest had been history. She was so thankful for them every day, sometimes the thought of it alone would build up and clog her throat, making it feel impossible to breath.

As childish as it had been, Clarke had loved Finn, obviously in a much different way than the way she had held Wells in her heart, but she had thought that the fluttering in her stomach had meant much deeper things than it had. Clarke had cared, she truly had, but time and distance had given her the clarity to realize that a lot of loving Finn had to do with loving feeling loved. She hadn’t realized it at the time, of course, but now she considered herself wiser, older, and it made it easier to admit these things to herself.

“You look like you’re thinking pretty hard over there,” Bellamy broke her thoughts. He reached out and tugged at a piece of her hair, smiling devilishly when she slapped his hand away. “What’s running through your head?”

“Do you hate me?” she posed, watching the confusion slap him in the face.

“That’s what you were thinking about?” he questioned incredulously

“No, it’s just a question. You said you hated everyone...even me?”

“Especially you,” he mocked, sending a wink. “I hate a lot of things, blondie, I didn’t say I hate them all equally.”

“Clarke, from Bellamy that’s basically an admission of love,” Octavia intervened. Clarke turned her body, peering out at those in the back seat, wondering when exactly they had gotten back in the conversation. “I think I’m hearing wedding bells.”

“Shit, sorry Octavia. Bellamy and I already eloped...you didn’t hear?” Clarke joked.

“If you ever were to get together, we would definitely have to call Wells. He totally called that one,” Octavia mentioned.

“He thought Bellamy and I were going to get together?” Clarke gasped. “I was never informed of this!”

“That’s really creepy,” Bellamy winced.

“Hey! I’m not that bad,” Clarke defending, shooting him a quick glance.

“That’s not why it’s creepy. You were in middle school, that’s practically pedophilic.”

“Wait, Wells?” Raven intervened just in time, Clarke and Bellamy’s eyes looking heatedly on each other’s for a beat too long. “He’s the one in all those Summer Camp pictures, right?”

“Yes,” Octavia answered for her. “We should stop and see him!”

“When did this become the two of yours reunion tour?” Bellamy exclaimed.

“Shut up,” Clarke ordered, barely sparing a glance in his direction. “I think that would be a great idea! It wouldn’t be that much of a stop, they live right in Arizona and we could do it right before we visit the Grand Canyon.”

“Hey, what is the final destination?” Finn questioned

“You don’t know?” Clarke exclaimed, eyeing the shrug Raven sent her way and finding herself incapable of resisting the eye roll that followed.

“I was promised fresh air and three weeks away from my house. That’s pretty much all you had to tell me.”

“Boys are idiots,” Octavia stated between laughs. “I could convince you to do just about anything with a mindset like that.”

“I would argue,” Finn began, “but you’re kinda right.”

Clarke spared them a glance and shook her head. She would not be arguing for him any day, that was for sure, Finn really was an idiot in his own moral highgroundy kind of way. She turned back toward the front; feeling Bellamy’s eyes on her (she didn’t know what it was, but there was something distinct about the way Bellamy looked at her, something that made her always feel it) she raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“I just agree with you, that’s all,” he told her, readjusting his grip on the wheel and letting out a laugh.

“How in the world would you know we’re thinking the same thing?”

Bellamy smirked over at her, his smugness emanating off of him in waves. Clarke wasn’t sure why he felt so smug about it, releasing a huff of breath along with her agitation.

“Great, they’re reading each other’s minds now…” Octavia threw out, a lightness floating with her words. Her face seemed calm, joking, and Clarke was glad Octavia seemed to be having so much fun. She was the kind of person who always seemed to deserve better, who Clarke felt deserved the world.

“I really do think they’re engaged,” Raven joined in.

“Oh, no - _eloped_ ,” Bellamy emphasized the comment made earlier, sending a ripple of giggles in its wake through the back seat.

All Clarke could seem to do was groan.

* * *

“I’m not rooming with Finn,” Bellamy hissed into her ear, reaching around her and grabbing the duffel bag she had just been reaching for before she could get it.

“It makes the most sense, Bellamy,” Clarke replied, trying to ignore how he swung the bag with ease. His far superior strength was really frustrating. “Don’t be a child!”

“I’m not being a child, but he-”

“What’s so weird about him that it would be unbearable to sleep in the same room for him for probably like two hours?” Clarke tested, her words coming out in a hushed rush.

“Clarke, you need the shower first?” Raven popped out the door, looking at her expectantly.

“No, I’ll get it when you’re done!” she replied, trying to assure her with a smile when she eyed the two of them suspiciously. Raven finally gave a slow nod, turning back around and retreating back into the room. Clarke turned back on Bellamy, trying her hardest not to laugh at the comically childish look he was sending her way. “You’re a big boy, you can handle this. We’re leaving to go see Monty and Jasper in a short time anyhow, like an hour or two. Go shower, ‘cause you aren’t as fresh as you probably would like to believe, and then...I don’t know, do something.”

“Fine,” he sighed, “but you owe me for this.”

“That makes no sense,” Clarke grumbled, pushing him away and moving toward her room. “You’ll be perfectly fine.”

“You better hope so,” he called after her, but Clarke didn’t turn, simply throwing her middle finger up in the air. “I have your bag!”

Clarke halted, slowly twisting around on one foot and staring him down. She crossed her arms, grumbling expletives underneath her breath with every arrogant swagger he took toward her. His smirk spread across his face, and he seemed to take some sweet enjoyment out of torturing her as he moved closer. “Here you go, princess,” he whispered, repeating the annoying move of leaning past her and moving a tad bit too close again, before indelicately dropping it on the ground over the doorstep behind her and moving away. Clarke groaned again, pushing her way into the room.

“You and my brother done flirting yet?” Octavia nonchalantly stated, not bothering to look up from her laptop where she was- actually, Clarke had no idea what she was doing on it. All she knew was that Octavia found herself on it a lot, and it had at some point just sort of become part of her. Clarke liked to watch Octavia typing away at her laptop, a sort of soft smile would sometimes take over her face, completely unforced, and she would get this look in her eyes like she was in some completely different world. She had always just assumed that Octavia was writing some epic story, but in all the time she had known her she had never once seen a line of words to support this theory.

“We weren’t flirting, he was actually just being a total baby about having to room with Finn,” Clarke told her, flopping down on the bed next to her. Octavia rolled her eyes, slamming the laptop closed and smiling impishly at her.

“Clarke, have you honestly never thought about it?”  

“Never thought about what? Your brother and me?” Clarke replied, propping her head up on her hand. Octavia flipped on to her back, laying her hands on her stomach and interlacing her fingers.

“Yea,” she spoke, turning her head toward Clarke and smiling softly. Octavia wagged her eyebrows suggestively, and Clarke slapped her shoulder, flopping her head down into the mattress. “That looks kinda like a yes.”

“You know I have, you knew me freshman year,” Clarke answered, barely lifting her head up from the hole in her arms she had been hiding in.

“But like seriously thought about it, like not just stupid temporary crush,” Octavia mentioned.

“Why do you care so much all of a sudden?” Clarke questioned. Octavia sighed to herself, thoughts flashing across her features as her eyebrows pushed together in concentration.

“What are we talking about in here?” Raven burst through the door, holding the towel wrapped around her torso with one hand and attempting to dry her hair with the other.

“Clarke and Bellamy,” Octavia supplied, the serious look she had been sporting seconds earlier disappearing so quickly Clarke practically got whiplash; Octavia smiled larger at the side glare sent her way.

“You should definitely get on that, Clarke,” Raven replied with a low whistle. “Man knows how to kiss.”

“We aren’t talking about that, like definitely not talking about that,” Octavia groaned, smashing her hands over her ears and groaning loudly. Raven practically cackled from her spot by the dresser, her head being thrown back with the force of her laughter. Raven’s eyes roamed over her open suitcase, figuring out what to wear before dropping her towel smoothly and beginning to dress.

“Some warning!” Clarke screamed, turning her head away. “Why are you so comfortable with your body? It’s weird.”

“You should try being more comfortable with your own, Clarke,” Raven told her, and Octavia let out a small laugh to the side of her. “Don’t worry, I’m dressed now. Didn’t you have to take a shower?”

“Yes,” Clarke replied, pushing herself up and moving toward the bathroom. “Don’t scheme or gossip too much while I’m away, ok?”

“No promises,” Octavia told her, sharing a wicked smile with Raven. Clarke rolled her eyes dramatically at the two of them, but it was impossible to keep the smile off of her face. Not only because Raven and Octavia were so one of a kind, so exactly what she needed, but also because she was going to get to see Monty and Jasper in less than an hour, and the prospect of it made her heart flutter with anticipation.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang reunites with Jasper and Monty.

Clarke fidgeted again in the front seat, noticing the side glance Bellamy sent in her direction. There was a sense of worrying curiosity held within his eyes, but Clarke pushed it away and chose to focus on the landscape outside of her window. There was absolutely no reason to be nervous about seeing Jasper and Monty, about a night of drinking and fun, but there was no mistaking the anxiety that sat low in her stomach.

Ever since she had stepped out of the shower, Clarke had felt something off within her. There was something off kilter about the air around her, the feelings gnawing at her from the inside, and she couldn’t seem to put a finger on it. If she could just figure out what the root of the emotional hurricane inside of her was she could maybe put a stop to it, but instead she was just left feeling useless and hopeless, uncomfortable in her skin.

“Here,” Bellamy stated. Octavia squealed in the back, dramatically climbing over Finn to get out of the car faster. Normally, Clarke would be laughing along with Raven and Finn in the back, would be smiling brightly and feeling excited for whatever adventure was about to come, but normal had felt so far away lately. Clarke didn’t feel capable of knowing what normal was anymore.

She unbuckled her seat belt, her hand already tightly grasped on the door handle, when she felt Bellamy’s hand tangle itself around her upper arm. The heat of it made her pause, and she took a sound breath before turning her eyes back around and toward his face.

“You ok, princess?” There was no malice in his spoken words, only a sort of softness that took Clarke off guard. She tried her best to smile back, but ended up dropping it after it felt undeniably forced.

“Fine,” she spoke clearly back, punctuating the word with a teaspoon too much cheer for it to be true. “Always am,” she added. Bellamy nodded once, clearly unconvinced, but his fingers dropped from her arm and she finally pushed her way out of the car. Her eyes landed on Raven and Finn leaning against the brick wall outside of the dorms, and just as she was about to whip her eyes around for Octavia, she came spewing out of the doors with Jasper and Monty on her arms.

Clarke ran forward, excitedly grabbing the pair in her arms. Monty laughed next to her, happily wrapping his arms around her, and Clarke realized how much she had missed his dorky laugh. It had felt like forever since she had heard it, and she could feel a small pressure start at the back of her eyes upon realizing how much she had missed her friends. She pushed the feeling away as she backed up, allowing Raven and Finn to swoop in. Bellamy gave her an odd look, but she turned away from him hastily and continued to watch the happy reunion instead.

“So, what are our plans for the night?” Jasper questioned as soon as all of the greetings and hugs had been doled out (Bellamy had even given a handshake, which was a big show of emotion as far as Clarke was concerned).

“I believe Clarke requested alcohol,” Finn spoke up, a mischievous smile on his face. Jasper’s expression lit up, and a bouncing sort of energy took him over.

“We know just the place,” Monty replied.

“There’s a party tonight at this house a little off campus,” Jasper began. “A lot of baseball players live there.”

“You mean Miller’s house, right?” Bellamy spoke up. Jasper and Monty’s faces both became very still at his words, and they turned toward each other, Jasper’s face now turning even more giddy.

“You know Miller?” Jasper asked.

“Yea,” he answered, confusion laced across his features much the same as everyone else in the group, “we’ve had some classes together; he’s a cool guy. What’s so special about him?”

“Just that Monty’s in _loo_ -”

“Shut _up_ , Jasper,” Monty cut him off, punching him in the arm. Jasper looked betrayed, narrowing his eyes at his best friend. “I may or may not have some small interest in him, but seeing as we have never had a conversation and he’s most likely straight, the interest is unwarranted.”

“He’s bisexual if that helps,” Bellamy answered for them. Jasper released a sound that was some kind of mix between a squeal and a whale’s mating call, and the rest of the group sent looks filled with varying degrees of horror at his face filled with excitement.

“You’re so in, man,” Jasper declared, patting Monty happily on the shoulder. Monty just rolled his eyes, and Clarke smiled at the small interaction.

“It’s still pretty early for a party, can we go get some food? I’m starving,” Raven spoke up, Finn nodding in agreement next to her.

“Ms. Reyes,” Jasper declared, “I know _just_ the place.”

* * *

Two hours and an unhealthy amount of tacos later, the group was about ready to head out again. Octavia was still filled with an uncontainable amount of energy, and Jasper and her were practically bouncing off the walls with their giggling and eagerness for the night to begin. There was still a strange feeling sitting low in Clarke's gut, but the smiles and laughter of her friends helped ease it, and Clarke thought that maybe the worst was already behind her.

“Are you ok?” Bellamy questioned, sliding up next to her. They were walking down the sidewalk toward the house, Clarke following behind the group in its whole, and with each step the sounds of the party grew louder. Cars were lining the sides of the street, and there was something funny to Clarke about how indiscreet the whole thing was.

“Stop asking me that,” she hissed, sending a quick side glare.

“Stop being not ok,” he replied, rolling his eyes at her. There was something nice about Bellamy’s concern, but she also did not have the energy for it. She was fine, really she was, and having him ask her every few minutes or give her a quick look that was filled with emotions she was so not used to seeing on his face was annoying beyond belief.

“Do I really not look ok?” she proposed. “That’s kind of insulting.”

“Maybe not to them,” he answered, a pointed look to the group in front of him.

“And you think you know me better than they do?” Clarke fired back, her body starting to ring with the flames that she felt. She was so tired of not being ok, of not being _seen_ as ok, and she just wanted it all to stop. This wasn’t the life she wanted, she hadn’t ever asked for any of this, but here she was. Clarke would do anything to return this unwanted burden, this unwanted weight. She felt like it was dragging her down underwater, and the memory of oxygen was becoming all too fleeting.

“I think I get you better than they do,” he decided, his words declarative. She halted in her steps for a moment, a heated look on her features as she stared at him. He walked a few steps forward before realizing she had stopped, coming to a standstill slightly in front of her.

“What does that even mean?” she asked, moving toward him. There was heat within her words, but the heat was hard to put a source to. There was anger and confusion, but also something else that Clarke couldn’t begin to put her finger on. She was getting really tired of not knowing what she felt, too, it was starting to become really aggravating.

“It means that, to some degree, you and me are the same, Clarke; you just happen to put a happier facade over it,” he explained. “Who we need to be to survive...it’s not always the same as who we are deep down, and you and I are survivors.”

“This is too philosophical for me right now,” she grumbled, pushing past him and picking up her pace. She felt him meet her side again, matching her long strides with ease. “I just want to go to a party and get wasted, ok? I just want to have fun with my friends, can we please not have this fucking weird therapy session right now?”

Clarke could feel some sort of strange energy emit from Bellamy next to her, could feel his eyes on the side of her face, but she didn’t comment on it. He let out a low breath, nodding his head a few times. “Whatever you want, princess.”

He stayed by her side until the group crossed the street and came up to the house, and then he was off in some direction and disappearing into the crowd before her eyes could even get a chance to follow his path. She didn’t care, she reminded herself, and she released a pleasant smile at Raven and Finn as they approached her.

“Beer?” Finn suggested, and Clarke agreed heartily. The buzz of the party helped make her forget about the beyond bizarre interaction her and Bellamy had just had, and as Finn guided her to where he had overheard the keg was, she didn’t comment on him being a bit too close. His hand grazed her side as he guided her through the mosh pit, and though she knew she should give him a glare or say something frosty, she couldn’t find it within herself to.

“Thank you,” she sighed as he handed over a cup. She was beyond grateful for the brown liquid, and she chugged down half of it within seconds. Raven let out a low whistle by her ear, and she jokingly smirked back at her. This is what she had wanted, an escape, and here she was with alcohol beginning to flow through her system and a new sense of anonymity.

“Careful there,” Finn warned, and the two girls shared a quick look of annoyance. “Fine,” he commented, “I’ll shut up.”

“Where did Octavia and the boys head off to?” Clarke asked, just now realizing that they had diverted at some point.

“I think they were going to go try to stalk that guy Monty is into,” Raven supplied.

“Good for him,” Clarke declared. “Let’s dance.”

“Really?” Raven exclaimed, joyfully surprised. “That’s not very you.”

“Tonight it is, now down that drink and let’s dance,” Clarke decided.

“Yes ma’am,” Raven announced, chugging the beer down with Clarke. They threw the cups to Finn, who looked annoyed that he was being saddled with their useless cups and abandoned, before Clarke grabbed tightly onto Raven’s hand and pulled her into the crowd of dancing. Time passed indistinguishably, more easily remembered by the amount of drinks Clarke had stopped to have than anything else, as the two of them danced. After some chunk of time Raven declared she needed to sit down, and Clarke pouted but agreed.

The fresh air seemed more appetizing than the lumpy couch Raven had moved toward, so Clarke stumbled through the kitchen and out the back door. There were only a few scattered people on the back porch, some guy smoking a cigarette menacingly in the dark, a couple who was making out on an adirondack chair, and someone sitting down on the steps. Picking the lesser of the evils, Clarke moved toward the steps and ungracefully plopped herself down.

The guy looked up at her, not seeming to give much care to the fact that she was present. He was slimly built, tall, with dirty blonde hair and, if she could tell right from their distance, blue eyes. There was something off about the feelings he seemed to emit, something dark and kinda scary, but she assumed it was more her being paranoid after too many beers than anything else.

“Why are you staring at me?” he questioned suddenly, his voice gruff. It was a shock to her system in a startling way, and Clarke eyed him suspiciously. Her fingers began to tap against her thigh; it was one of her oldest nervous ticks, and she wondered why she felt so nervous all of a sudden.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to, I can leave you be,” she began, attempting to push her way up off the stairs but feeling her hand slip, she stumbled back down. He laughed slightly, and it sounded more comforting than his voice had.

“I didn’t mean to scare you off, I’ve just had a shitty night,” he began, moving closer to help her back into a sitting position.

“Tell me about it,” she grumbled, rubbing a hand down her face. A split second later she remembered that she was wearing makeup and it was most likely smeared now, but Clarke decided the dark would conceal it just fine.

“I’m Dax,” he introduced himself with an extended hand. Clarke took it and noticed the severely strong grip, pulling her hand back a bit too quickly to be considered socially acceptable.

“Clarke,” she replied. “What made your night so horrible?”

“A mixture of things,” he answered with a shrug. “You?”

“I can’t really put my finger on it,” she answered. “The whole night has just felt...off.”

“If I was you, I’d drink some more,” he told her, holding out his own glass in offering. Clarke shook her head, shifting slightly to the left.

“I’ve really already had enough, thank you, though,” she answered.

“How much can a little more really hurt you?” he tested, holding it out again.

“No,” she declared, her voice harsh. One of his eyebrows raised upward and he set the drink down behind him, raising his hands in a surrender. Clarke felt a breeze hit her from behind, and as she raised a hand to it and turned slightly, she noticed that everyone else on the porch had vacated at some point without her noticing.

“Sorry,” he spoke, scooting closer. Clarke tried to stand up again, but she couldn’t seem to get her thoughts quite together, and she was easily halted as he slid an arm behind her. “You’re very beautiful, anyone ever tell you that before?”

“Get away from me,” she hissed, feeling his hand run up her thigh. Dax continued in his actions, grabbing the side of her face forcefully and attempting to kiss the side of her neck. Clarke pushed hard against his chest, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“You’re at a party,” he replied with a chuckle, “this is why people come to parties.”

“To have guys force themselves on me? No thanks,” Clarke snapped, pushing him far enough away that she could finally get back up to her feet. The world spinned as her feet finally found solid ground beneath her on the porch, and she was forced to grab on to the railing to regain her balance. He was quick behind her, grabbing onto her hips and slamming her back into the railing. “Stop!” she exclaimed.

“Oh come on,” he cooed, “you know you want it.”

“Fuck you!” she screamed, hitting his chest with as much strength as she could manage. Her actions were slowed, though, and he was stronger than she had anticipated by first look.

“Get the Hell away from her,” came a voice, and Clarke sighed in relief. Bellamy was behind him, and he grabbed roughly at the guy’s jacket, pulling him away before sending a solid punch. Blood spurted from his nose, and the guy yelled expletives as he pushed his way back through the door and away from the two of them. “Princess?” he questioned tentatively.

Clarke remained motionless, her hands grasped tightly on the railing. Her knuckles were white as she gripped it, and suddenly anger seemed to rip through her. She kicked hard at the railing, letting out a raging yell before becoming motionless again, her breathing hurried and loud. Her face lazily turned toward Bellamy and his effortless charm, he’d never looked more beautiful than in that moment. She launched herself forward, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

His arms didn’t respond at first, his body stiffening underneath her hug, but then they clasped tightly around her and he pulled her in. Clarke knew she was too close right now for this to be a completely logical idea, her head was stuffed into the crook of his neck and she was practically inhaling him, but for right now she was going to chose to blame it on the alcohol. Bellamy smelled woodsy, like comfort, something indistinguishable that made her just feel safe. She knew eventually she was going to have to release herself from him, but for that moment she let herself melt into Bellamy Blake.

“Princess?” he questioned again, his voice feeling booming in the silence that encapsulated the area.

“I’m fine,” she bristled, pulling herself slowly back. Her voice sounded heavy with emotion, and she realized for the first time that tears had spilled from her eyes. This day, she decided, was just way too much.

“Yea, definitely looks like it,” he scoffed. Clarke released a teary chuckle and tried to send a small smile in his direction. This was what Bellamy was so good for...being there exactly when you needed him to be. “Do you want to go back to the motel?”

“Yes please,” she sighed. Bellamy didn’t say anything as he walked by her side back to the car, and he didn’t say anything once they were in the car either. It was oddly refreshing, she decided, to have some space to breath for once. The motel was only a minute or two down the road, so by the time Clarke was in the car she was already getting out of it, or so it seemed. “Thank you again,” she stated, reaching into her pocket for the key to unlock the door. “Shit,” she groaned.

“What?” he questioned.

“We had only two keys...guess who has them?” Clarke stated. She was still way too drunk for this, she decided, because nothing made sense around her. Bellamy released a chuckle and motioned with his head for her to follow, which she begrudgingly did.

“I’m sure Finn won’t mind you taking his bed,” Bellamy stated as he moved closer to his side of the room. He slipped his shoes off and threw his coat off and over the back of the nearest chair. In her inebriated state it was a lot more difficult to stop her eyes from trailing over Bellamy, but she tried her best and flopped down onto his bed with a cheeky smile.

“I’m _so_ not sleeping on Finn’s bed,” Clarke announced. Bellamy sighed, but didn’t say anything else back before disappearing into the bathroom so she assumed he was ok with it. Clarke took the emptiness as an opportunity to get a little comfier, and she threw her own jacket off and her shoes. In an ideal world, she would be able to take off her jeans or switch out of her shirt, and she was certainly tempted just to steal one of Bellamy’s shirts and do just that, but even drunk she knew that was a disaster waiting to happen.

“You really going to stay right there?” he questioned as he emerged from the room, only a  grey T-shirt on his body that did all sorts of things to his arms that were hard for Clarke to ignore. Really, _really_ hard to ignore.

“Yes,” she replied with a yawn. Bellamy just sighed again, grabbing his laptop and sitting down next to Clarke who had already made herself comfortable. It was definitely her lowered inhibitions that made her comfortable being so close to him, but it was calming to feel him close by her side. “It’s been a really shitty day, Bellamy.”

The sounds of his keyboard strokes halted, and Clarke could feel his eyes land on the side of her face. She stayed looking away from him, her arms clasping tightly onto the pillow. “I know, Clarke.”

“He’s everywhere,” she admitted with a soft whisper.

“It gets better, eventually,” he promised. It didn’t sound like much, Clarke admitted, but it was something, that was certain.

“Thanks for saving me tonight,” she told him. Her body started to feel heavier, and all she wanted to do was let sleep take her. Maybe, in the morning, everything wouldn’t seem so terribly fucked up.

“You’re welcome…” he trailed off. “You know, Clarke, that I would- Clarke?”

Bellamy leaned forward, looking over her face, but her chest rose in slow movements. It was clear that she had already drifted off, and Bellamy didn’t even bother trying to fight the smile that took over his face. He leaned over her, flipping the lamp off and cascading them into darkness.

“Goodnight, Clarke.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the party doesn't begin exactly the way Clarke would anticipate. The gang goes to brunch and are joined by an unexpected guest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually meant to be longer but then it started getting TOO long so I decided to push some of the stuff from the morning after into the next chapter. This fic should start being updated every Sunday now, it's going to get much more regular (that's a promise).

“Come on, princess,” Bellamy urged, kicking the side of the bed and jolting Clarke awake.

“If I had more energy I would flip you off right now,” she groaned into the pillow. Her body felt heavy, groggy, like moving through quicksand, and she really had no desire whatsoever to attempt to take on the day.

“You’re so cheerful,” he mocked, flopping down next to her on the bed. She groaned again, burying herself deeper into the pillows and blankets. The night was beginning to catch up to her, and for one of the first times in her life she wished she could be anyone but her, to slip in to someone else’s life even if for just the briefest of moments.

“You’re an sss.”

“Clarke,” Bellamy sighed, pushing toward her on the bed. “Clarkie, come on Clarkie poo.”

“Go away,” she grumbled.

“Clarkie,” he joked, finally finding her face underneath the blanket. “You want to know a secret?”

Clarke flipped her body over, leaning her head on her hand and finally seeing his face. Bellamy’s skin looked perfect with the soft gleam of light that fluttered through the blanket that was currently the only barrier between them and the real world. His hair still looked slightly wet from the shower he must have taken, and Clarke became more aware of the fact that she felt very _not_ clean.

“I knew you would want to hear it,” he spoke smugly.

“Oh yea, I forgot...you know me so _well_ ,” she mocked, but the humor that was meant to be pumped through her sentiment petered toward the end, and it became clear to the both of them the there was a part of her that truly believed it. “What’s the secret?” she whispered.

Bellamy’s stare, which had been almost too deeply penetrating, that had made her feel practically see-through, broke for a second and returned back to his much more jovial, lighter expression. Clarke was sure she still saw a spark of it in his eyes, but she decided to let it slide and looked at him expectantly.

“Finn thinks we had sex last night,” Bellamy whispered, laughing at the aggravated groan that escaped.

“You’re kidding me,” Clarke sighed, her head flopping dramatically to the pillow. Bellamy chuckled heartily.

“I actually am,” he shot back, laughing at the wide eyes and gaping mouth that characterized Clarke’s features as she looked at him.

“Bellamy!” she gasped, pushing him hard on the chest. He stumbled backward and Clarke shook with laughter. Moving toward him, the blanket having slipped away from over their heads, Bellamy now on his back at the edge of the bed and Clarke a little too close, Clarke rested her head on her hand yet again and stared at him quizzically. “What did he really say?”

“Do you care?” he proposed. Clarke pondered the words for a second, the thought sipping through quickly as the answer flashed into her mind.

“Not really,” she replied with a shrug.

“Mostly he was just confused,” he answered, “but I told him you  just got wasted and needed a little saving.”

The instinct of Clarke was to argue, mostly because the thought of needing saving made her feel weak, but when she thought about it a little more she supposed maybe she should just let it go. maybe sometimes you just needed to admit you couldn’t do something all by yourself, that you needed a little help from your friends.

“It’s ok to need a little help every once in a while,” Bellamy stated. There he went again, seeming to see something in Clarke she didn’t think was all that obvious (though she had been starting to realize lately that she wasn’t always as right as she tended to think she was).

“Well isn’t that funny coming from you,” Clarke pointed out with a half-turned smile, one corner of her mouth reaching upward, the words breaking the intensity of the moment.

“Oh, I never need any help,” he replied with a smirk. Clarke rolled her eyes dramatically, smacking him once again on the chest.

“Guys, we’re ready to- oh,” Finn sputtered, stopping in his tracks as he noticed the two of them. The scene in front of him was one of strange intimacy, Bellamy and Clarke close to each other; her hair was tickling his arm, their faces close enough to feel the other’s breath, a natural sort of ease with the other evident. There was laughter still playing on their faces, and Finn couldn’t help but notice how much lighter Clarke appeared than she had before this, then she had any time he had seen her recently.

“Hey,” Clarke declared, pushing herself hastily up to a sitting position, only now realizing the dizziness that was still sitting heavily on her head. “What were you saying?”

“Brunch, we’re uh- going to brunch. We’re going to leave in like 10 minutes to meet Jasper and Monty so I don’t know if Clarke you-” Finn began.

“Want to shower, yes,” Clarke declared, enthusiastically pushing herself off of the bed. As she moved toward the door and Finn, she could feel both pairs of eyes on her. It made her uncomfortable to feel their stares, specifically because they held such different weights. Finn’s eyes felt more like disappointment or confusion while Bellamy’s were...well, she wasn’t quite sure what Bellamy’s were. Each day of the trip was making her relearn things about Bellamy she had once been so certain of.

As soon as the door shut gently behind her, Finn turned his eyes away from the door and toward Bellamy. “Is there something...?”

The words hung unfinished, and Bellamy raised his eyebrows mockingly at Finn. “Really? No, there’s isn’t something…” he joked as the words were left unfinished, trailing off endlessly. Bellamy moved up to his feet, looking around the floor for his shoes.

“I’m just worried about her, that’s all. It isn’t fair to take advantage of someone after what she’s been through,” Finn announced with a shrug.

“Woah,” Bellamy Began, his body tightening up as his face snapped to Finn. “I’m not taking advantage of her, and I never would. I’ve known her longer than you have, and let’s remember who cheated on his girlfriend and then wouldn’t stop bothering the girl he unwillingly made into the other woman.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“To what? Insult me? Hurt Clarke? Which one, Finn?” Bellamy began, his words fueled with anger. His face was stormy, the clean cut lines and smooth curves turning into something filled with anger. “You did both.”

“I’m just worried about her, that’s all,” he admitted, his words falling defeated to the ground. “I care about her a lot.”

“And that’s why I haven’t already punched you in your fucking face,” Bellamy stated, “but sometimes you need to realize that just because something will make _you_ feel better doesn’t mean it will make _her_ feel better. Stop trying to make yourself feel better by getting Clarke to forgive you. If you really cared about her you’d forget about yourself and lighten up a bit, let her do what she needs to do.”

“I’m sorry, you’re right, I…” Finn trailed off, rubbing a hand down his face. “I’ll try harder.”

“Good, cause she doesn’t deserve it,” Bellamy declared. Finn’s eyes searched over his face, a small smile curving his lips upward. “What?”

“Nothing,” Finn replied, shrugging it off. “She’s lucky to have you, you know.”

Bellamy scoffed. “No one’s lucky to have me.”

“Wow, never knew you thought so low of yourself. I don’t think Octavia would feel that way,” Finn answered, shaking his head. “Clarke either.”

“When did this turn into a therapy session?” Bellamy asked, and Finn laughed. Bellamy cracked a smile in return, barely there, but for never really liking Finn at all in the past, he could finally see that maybe there was some good to him.

“Whatever, find your damn shoes and I’ll see you outside,” Finn replied. The door shut softly behind him, and Bellamy did just as he was told.

* * *

As soon as Clarke was past the door to her own room, she realized the grave error in her thought that she would be alone. Raven and Octavia were both sitting on a single bed, the two of them staring straight at her before cheering and catcalling (both of which were far too loud and Clarke winced at the throbbing that pulsed through her head).

“Guys, please _no_ ,” Clarke begged, a hand coming up lazily to the side of her head.

“I’m sorry, but you had sex with my brother,” Octavia stated.

“Oh my god, how was he in bed?” Raven exclaimed, sporting a lewd smile.

“I did not have sex with your brother!” Clarke defended, moving toward her bag and grabbing some clean clothes. Giggles erupted behind her, and she snapped back toward the sounds.

“We know,” Octavia barely spoke out between giant peals of laughter.

“We’re just messing with you,” Raven added, holding her side as she bent forward. Clarke remained stone-faced, entirely unamused in their actions.

“I don’t understand the weird joy you Blakes get from joking about sex,” Clarke declared. “I am going to go shower and when I’m out if anyone even _says_ the word sex I’m going to steal Bellamy’s car and leave without you all.”

“So he wasn’t that good then?” Raven joked, calling after her. Clarke stuck her middle finger straight up, not even bothering to turn herself back around as she heard the laughter grow into booming roars. She shut the door soundly behind her and made to shower, praying by the time she exited the bathroom that either the loud laughter would have ceased or her head didn’t hurt quite so much or, if she was lucky enough for a miracle, _both_.

There wasn’t anyone in the room when Clarke exited the bathroom, luckily, and she was thankful to have the silence as she slipped on her shoes and grabbed her things to shove back in the van. The group was littered around the car when she slipped out of the room, and none of them bothered to comment much as she moved to the trunk and carelessly threw her things in.

“I’m starving!” she called out cheerfully, hoping to signal that she was ready to go, and the group unanimously agreed before filing into the vehicle. It was clear that despite their initial energy this morning, the group was still fairly tired from their various adventures the day and night before, so conversation stayed to a minimum.

Jasper and Monty were already sitting down in a booth when the group entered, seated off in a corner with a few chairs already pulled over by the biggest table so the group would fit in its entirety.

“I feel like I barely saw you last night,” Clarke admitted to Monty sadly as she slipped into the booth, finding herself scrunched between Bellamy and Jasper.

“That would be because we barely got to see you last night,” Jasper stated.

“Sorry,” Clarke admitted, looking sheepishly at the pair.

“I wish you guys could continue on with us,” Octavia spoke up, smiling widely at the pair. "You'd add so much to the road trip!"

“Trust us,” Monty spoke up, “we wish we could, too.”

“Enough small talk,” Raven spoke up, “I want to know what happened last night with everyone. Most importantly, Monty, and Clarke after she disappeared.”

“Monty first,” Clarke piped up, smiling over at him. He was slumped down slightly, a large smile on his face but a light blush creeping up his cheeks.

“He knows I exist, now,” Monty explained with a shrug.

“ _Details_ , Monty,” Raven pushed, rolling her eyes lightheartedly.

“He just so happened to accidentally bump into him,” Octavia continued for him.

“You physically pushed me into him,” Monty clarified.

“Minor details,” Octavia shrugged off, tossing her hand to the side dramatically.

“We only talked for a few minutes before he got pulled off by some girl-”

“Some _slut_ ,” Octavia cut him off, “her name was like _Roma_ or something. Have you ever heard such a stripper name? Probably sells her body on the streets.”

“I appreciate the support Octavia, but she does the statistics for the baseball team. She’s actually crazy smart when it comes to stats,” Monty defended. Octavia rolled her eyes again, and Clarke couldn’t help but shake her head and smile at her friends dramatics. “Anyway, we only got the chance to introduce ourselves before he had to leave and- please someone tell me my eyes are deceiving me.”

“Holy shit,” Jasper squealed, his eyes noticing Miller entering the diner only a few seconds before the rest of the group.

“Miller!” Bellamy called, smirking over at Monty as he shot him a panicked look. Miller noticed the group of them, nodding once and moving toward them. He looked more laid back than Clarke had expected when she had heard he was a baseball player the day before, wearing a weathered leather jacket over a hooded zip up sweatshirt and a dark beanie on his head, but there was something about the reserved smile he gave as he moved toward them that made Clarke capable of seeing just what it was that must have pulled Monty in.

“I can’t do this,” Monty hissed toward the group, but before anyone could comment on the words, Miller had already pulled a chair up and was sitting at the edge of the table.

“Hey, don’t mind if I join?” Miller spoke, looking at the group. “Good to see you man,” he spoke specifically to Bellamy, doing the head nod thing that guys always seemed to do with each other and Clarke never seemed to understand.

“Perfect timing, we were just talking about the party last night,” Octavia stated through a beam.

“So you were all there?” Miller questioned. “I saw Monty and Jasper there with Octavia and I saw Bellamy, but I don’t know the rest of you.”

“Finn, Raven, and Clarke,” Bellamy answered for him.

“How do you know Jasper and Monty?” Raven questioned, leaning forward with an attentive expression. Clarke noticed the smirk that she was clearly trying to hide, though, and knew the game she was playing.

“Hey Bellamy,” Clarke whispered to him as the waitress cut Miller off before he could speak and began to take their drink orders. “Can I use your phone real quick?”

“Not everything is yours, princess,” he replied, narrowing his eyes at her. “What can my phone do that yours can’t?”

“Prove to me that you texted Miller to get him to come,” Clarke declared, reveling in the narrowed gaze she received in response.

“I didn’t,” he answered.

"You big softie. I _knew_ you loved them," Clarke teased.

"Monty, not them," Bellamy corrected. Clarke couldn't help the smile that burst across her face, happily telling the waitress she wanted an orange juice before she slipped away and the table was left alone yet again.

“Still waiting on that answer,” Raven prodded.

“Monty and I cross paths in the library,” Miller explained, gifting himself a small side glance over to him before turning back to Raven. There was nothing more thrilling to Clarke than two people who had feelings for each other but were so nervous about admitting it; it was unbelievably adorable. “He’s always going to the science section and I’m always heading to the good corner of the library to study.”

“You guys should study together sometime,” Octavia spoke up, smiling brightly at the two of them.

“Clarke, you never told us what you did last night once you disappeared,” Monty spoke up, not allowing any more comments that were clearly directed at him and Miller to be spoken. Miller spared a quick glance at him again, a small smile at his lips, and courteously turned toward Clarke.  

“I’m afraid it isn’t all that happy,” Clarke admitted. Bellamy tensed up next to her, his hand clenching on the table top next to her and for a second she had a thought to reach out for him, maybe make him feel calmer about it, but she pushed the thought aside and faced the table. “I was sexually assaulted last night.”

“Don’t be so calm about it, Clarke, he was forcing himself on you,” Bellamy added as the group broke out in sounds around them.

“I’m not being calm about it, I’m as angry as you, I just can’t change the past,” she declared. The two of them made eye contact, Bellamy clearly holding himself back from saying something he wanted to, and the fact that he wouldn’t just say it made Clarke fill up with rage. She forgot how smug he could get, how he always thought he knew the right answer, and it made her whole body seem to bubble with heat.

“That’s rich,” Bellamy mumbled underneath his breath, only loud enough for her to hear.

“What is that supposed to mean?” she hissed back at him.

“Nothing, nothing at all,” he replied with false cheer, turning back toward the group.

“Who was it?” Miller questioned. “He shouldn’t get away with it. Anyone who touches anyone against their will…” he trailed off, and Clarke could tell that behind the apparent gruffness of Miller, there was good bursting from within.

“Dax,” Clarke answered. “His name was Dax.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Miller stated, and Clarke looked to her left to see the way Monty’s eyes seemed to shine at him. Monty looked at him like he hung the moon, and Clarke sincerely hoped this one worked out for him.

“Thanks, Miller,” Clarke answered genuinely.

“So…” Octavia began, wincing slightly as her words came out. “Those sex jokes were a little inappropriate this morning.”

Clarke laughed underneath her breath and smiled at her friends. “You guys wouldn’t be my friends if your jokes weren’t told at horribly inappropriate times 90% of the time.”

“I’m glad we agree,” Raven declared with the shrug of one of her shoulders. The conversation continued, and Clarke felt grateful for every single person in the haphazard circle she was a part of. Even Miller seemed to slip easily into the folds of the group, and Clarke felt reassured that, no matter what strange or horrifying thing hit them next, the people around her would be there with her.

She couldn’t control the bad, but she could certainly control who she had by her side when it came. It wasn’t perfect, but it felt right.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After finishing breakfast, the gang heads out on the road again just for Bellamy and Clarke to start one of their biggest arguments yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me! Updating within a week! Wooo!

Despite the nausea that still seemed to sit on Clarke from the night before, she was overjoyed to have the plate of eggs and waffles that was practically spilling over the edges placed in front of her. She couldn’t resist the urge to dig straight in, grabbing her fork with zeal and spooning a chunk of eggs into her mouth. Clarke pulled back, grabbing the syrup and pouring it over everything on her plate.

“That’s disgusting,” Jasper groaned out, his eyes trailing over the plate now heavily coated with the sugary topping. Clarke grinned annoyingly over at him, shrugging her shoulders.

“Let her have this,” Raven mock whispered over to him, and Clarke rolled her eyes at Raven. Raven noticed and sent her a sickeningly sweet smile which Clarke couldn’t help but match.

“So tell us, Miller, how do we compare to your baseball friends?” Clarke questioned, genuine curiosity laced in her words. Miller looked up from his omelet, finishing his bite and setting down his fork before responding.

“Your jokes are far less offensive,” he began, clearly thinking over the words, “and you all have a far higher IQ than the majority of my team mates. I also actually like you all, so there’s that.”

“If you don’t like the guys why are you on the team?” Octavia questioned. Clarke noticed that all eyes were on Miller, and she could tell that it made him the slightest bit nervous, his knee bouncing up and down, but besides for the small tell he appeared composed on all fronts.

“I’m here for a baseball scholarship,” he explained. “I had some trouble with authority in High School, so I wouldn’t have even been able to get in if it wasn’t for baseball. It keeps me out of debt.”

“Well when we’re all here next year you can join us anytime you like,” Finn offered.

“I mean, a lot of our hangouts involve movie marathons and mario kart, but if that happens to be up your alley we’re accepting applications for new members,” Octavia mentioned, sending a lighthearted wink in his direction. The corner of Miller’s mouth lifted, a half smile finding its way to his lips.

“I’m pretty good at mario kart,” he replied. Clarke was starting to realize that she liked Miller more and more with each thing she found out about him, that he was someone she had a feeling she would get along with pretty well. There was something about his honesty, his warm heart even in the face of his gruffness that was increasingly attractive to be in the presence of.

“You might have to fight Monty for the spot of reigning champion,” Raven proposed, that mischievous smile again coming out in full force. Monty’s cheeks lit up with the smallest of blushes, but he smiled largely at the claim.

“I’m a tough one to beat,” he admitted, laughing slightly at the thought.

“I’ll admit, I’m pretty competitive,” Miller replied.

“Oh,” Raven scoffed out, “there’s no way you’re more competitive than the Blakes or Clarke.”

“Hey!” Bellamy and Clarke exclaimed together. Octavia merely shrugged, a knowing look on her face as she silently agreed.

“Come on, you two have to know it,” Jasper added. “And we all know how obvious something must be if _I’m_ the voice of reason.”

“I have a healthy amount of competitiveness,” Clarke reasoned. Bellamy snorted next to her, and she whipped toward him and narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me, you have _no_ _right_ to talk!”

“You’re the one who almost stabbed yourself in a game of charades so your team would guess Romeo and Juliet,” Bellamy pointed out.

“And here we go…” Finn muttered underneath his breath, Octavia shooting a loud breath air out of her nose in agreement and crossing her arms.

“You cheated at Uno, Bellamy! _Uno_.”

“I lost the card! I was not hiding it, and how can you even compare me hypothetically hiding an Uno card to nearly stabbing yourself for the sake of winning,” Bellamy argued.

“I was not going to stab myself,” Clarke breathed out, annoyance clear in her voice, “you were just being dramatic.”

“The verdict is still 50/50 on that one, Clarke,” Monty added in. “We found some hard evidence that would suggest you may have actually stabbed yourself if the situation called for it, but it wasn’t strong enough to label you guilty.”

“You make it sound like you actually had a trial for it,” Miller commented, clearly amused.

“I’m not saying we had an _actual_ trial,” Jasper began, his words light and joking.

“But we _may_ have had an actual trial,” Monty finished, a laugh bursting from him at the memory. The thought of that moment, how they had all taken sides and come up with evidence, Monty judging and setting up the area, was deeply rooted in all of their minds, and it was strong enough to bring laughter to the table. It had been ridiculous, but in their true competitive nature, Clarke and Bellamy had picked opposing sides and fought to their last dying breath. It was one of their last memories before Bellamy had headed off to college, and so it held a strong sense of nostalgia along with the humor.

“Here’s the check, sweeties,” the waitress popped in, sliding the thin piece of paper onto the table and carrying away as many plates as possible in her tiny arms. Once they had finished their meals, the group all threw in some cash, leaving a decent tip for the waitress, and slowly filing out of the booth and the restaurant. Clarke groaned at the amount of food she had consumed, feeling heavy with it, but at the very least the sickness had dispersed entirely and she finally felt ready for the day before her.

“Thanks for letting me join you guys,” Miller stated, initiating the goodbyes. “It was good to meet you.”

“Pleasure was all ours, I’m sure,” Octavia replied, a cheerful grin on her face.

“Monty, you and I will have to test out our mario kart skills together sometime, see who really is the better player,” he continued, Monty nodding back happily, albeit a bit slowly (out of pure shock Clarke would assume), and Miller gave one final wave to the group before sliding into the driver’s seat of his car and leaving the parking lot.

“You’re so in, man,” Jasper stated, clapping him proudly on the shoulder. Monty rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help the excitement that was beginning to pour through his body. The two of them turned toward each other, doing their handshake, and it made Clarke remember that before it had been Octavia, Clarke, Jasper, and Monty, Jasper and Monty had been a tight unit all their own. It made her heart warm, the thought that somethings never seemed to dissolve no matter how much time seemed to pass.

“I’m not going to say that it was _all_ me,” Octavia began.

“Which you _wouldn't_ , because I was _just_ as strong of a player,” Raven pushed, cutting her off and eyeing her accusingly.

“Fine, it was all me _and_ Raven,” Octavia conceded. “We would like official recognition on the wedding invites if you’d be so kind.”

“Of course,” Jasper answered for Monty, pulling him to his side and wrapping an around around his shoulders. “As Best Man I’ll make sure to talk these important details over with Monty when the time comes.”

“I hate all of you,” Monty groaned, pushing Jasper away and stumbling slightly back to a standing position a few feet away.

“Leave Monty alone, guys,” Clarke laughed, taking a step towards him and grabbing on to his arm. She rested her head on his shoulder, enjoying some of the last minutes she would have with him before they were on the road again.

“This is why Clarke is my favorite,” Monty deadpanned, a wave of laughter and arguments crashing after the phrase was uttered.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news…” Bellamy trailed off, reality settling back in.

“But you have to go,” Jasper finished for him, making a pouting face at the group. “I’m going to miss you guys.”

“We’ll miss you,” Octavia replied, flinging herself at Jasper and wrapping her arms tightly around him. Raven filed on top of the two, creating a sandwich with Jasper in the middle, all of them giggling like children and holding tightly on to one another.

Clarke moved in for a hug, clasping her arms around Monty and breathing in the moment. “I can’t wait to see you again,” Clarke stated, pulling back just in time to see Monty send her a sad smile.

“You’re ok, right?” he whispered. “You’re not just pretending? We’ve been worried about you, Clarke.”

_Was_ she ok? Clarke didn’t really know anymore, and to define the word ok was just all too difficult. There was a part of her that felt like no one on the whole planet was _ever_ ok, that it was more a myth than a reality, but she wasn’t sure if that was a belief purely based from her pessimism or something more. She didn’t feel like she was going to fall apart, but there was this ache that seemed to always sit in her stomach, the only times it was at all calmer being the moments she was distracted by something else. When she came back to after the calm, however, the ache always pulsed back into action, stronger and fiercer than before.

“I will be,” she answered, and it felt honest. Monty sent her a nod, taking another quick hug from her before moving toward the waiting Finn. Clarke could feel Bellamy’s eyes on her, but she chose not to acknowledge him; she hadn’t forgotten the double-sided words he had spoken only a half hour before, the words that had been angry when she said she couldn’t change the past, and she wasn’t ready to deal with whatever lesson he was planning on giving her quite yet.

“I’ll miss you, Clarke,” Jasper stated, grabbing her into a hug from behind. Clarke giggled in surprise, a sound she couldn’t even remember the last time she had made, and melted slightly into Jasper.

“I’ll miss you too,” she answered, turning around and wrapping her arms around his waist. He hugged her back briefly, patting her once on the back and pulling away from her.

It was sad to pile into the van and pull away from Monty and Jasper, watch them disappear into the distance as they heartedly waved goodbye and cheered them on, but Clarke knew it wasn’t forever. Relationships were easy when you knew you had more time, when you had the future to look forward to.

Octavia went into the slightest bit of a post-Jasper and Monty funk, staying quiet in the back while she typed away at her laptop. Finn was quietly reading a book, clearly unaffected by the motion of the car as he had made a considerable dent during the course of their trip so far, and Raven was talking over the seat to Bellamy about who knows what. Clarke was merely watching the group in its entirety, sometimes listening to the two of her friends speak, but mostly just thinking, pondering, letting her mind wander off into a million directions.

“What do you think?” Raven questioned, turning toward her. Clarke reacted slowly, her eyes taking several seconds to focus.

“Sorry, I wasn’t listening,” she admitted, pushing a lock of hair that had fallen into her face behind one ear.

“What were you thinking about?” Raven asked, throwing her own hair up into a bun. The sun glared through the window, and Raven put on her sunglasses before looking back at Clarke expectantly.

“Nothing much,” she replied, “the future, the past, I don’t know. Life.”

“How very existential of you,” Bellamy commented, his words playing on the edge of harsh. Clarke bristled at the words, turning her body so she was fully facing him, one leg underneath her and her back leaning against the car door.

“If you have something to say to me, just say it,” Clarke proposed. Bellamy halted for a moment, his eyes never leaving the road, but Clarke could see the hesitation in the way his arms moved, in the almost held breath.

“You sure you want to have this conversation right now? In a confined space with all of our friends?”

“What, you can only have deep conversations with me when we’re all alone? You embarrassed to talk to me in public?” Clarke argued, the anger suddenly boiling up inside of her. She wasn't quite sure why she felt so angry, why everything he did was seeming to upset her, but she couldn’t have held it back even if she wanted to, which she _really_ didn't.

“Fine, princess, I forgot you get everything you want, don’t you?” he replied, his anger matching hers.

“Guys,” Raven tried, but it was clear that nothing she did was going to work to diffuse the tension at that point. It was past her control, and she huffed before falling back into her seat.

“That isn’t fair,” she countered, her words growing in volume.

“It doesn’t matter if it’s _fair_ , Clarke,” Bellamy disputed, “that’s life. I thought you were grown up enough to understand that.”

“The only thing I can’t seem to understand is how you’re single, Bellamy, you’re just so _kind_ and _understanding_ and such a goddamn catch,” Clarke flung back, sarcasm dripping from her words. “I’ve never been more attracted to you in my life, but then again I’m a child so it’s probably just me being juvenile.”

“You want to talk like a grown up, Clarke? Fine, let’s talk like adults,” Bellamy continued. “You talk this huge game about forgetting the past, about living in the moment, I mean, that’s what this whole road trip is about, right? Escaping the past, living in the moment, but escaping the past and forgetting it are so different, aren’t they?”

“I’m sorry, I’m not nearly as smart as you and clearly not catching on to your philosophical lesson today, teach,” she mocked, “what are you trying to tell me?”

“Guys, is there any way we can calm this down?” Finn broke into the argument, his words even and relaxed.

“Not everything can be solved with a peace treaty, Finn,” Clarke snapped, not even taking her eyes off of Bellamy as she said it. Finn stared at her for a second, sending a resolute nod and returning to his book, deciding to stay out of it.

“It seems we’ve lost the peer mediator,” Octavia mumbled from the back, her eyes resolutely set on the computer screen and her words lacking emotion in any regard, “looks like this is going to get ugly.”

“I’m trying to tell you, that you need to learn to stop holding on to things that are not yours to hold on to,” Bellamy yelled. “It’s not your fault.”

“If it’s not my fault, then whose fault is it? Huh? Because someone needs to take responsibility for everything, and it’s always me, I _always_ do it.”

“No one asked you to!”

“It doesn’t matter! I take the burden so the people around me don’t have to, I take it so that the ones I love don’t have to feel that,” Clarke declared, her words sharp.

“What if no one had to feel it? Why does there always have to be blame?” Bellamy argued. “Sometimes, as hard as it is for you to believe, Clarke, there isn’t fault to be placed anywhere. The universe is just fucked up sometimes.”

“That’s an awfully nice thought, but we all know it isn’t true in this case,” Clarke provided, her hands clenching in her lap as the heat burned inside of her.

“Why can’t it be? You’re placing blame when-”

“I killed my dad, Bellamy! You know that, my mom knows that, everyone in this fucking car knows that so let’s stop pretending that this conversation is about anything besides that,” Clarke yelled, her throat sore as the words pushed through. She could feel all eyes in the car on her, and suddenly Clarke felt like she couldn’t breathe in the space, like everything was closing in and what if this is what it felt like for the rest of her life? The lack of space, the emptiness, the anger that never seemed to stop.

“Pull the car over, Bellamy,” she whispered out, her breathing increasing as the anxiety took over her. One of her hands reached up into her hair, tugging at the roots so she could feel something normal, something grounding.

“Clarke-” he began, but Clarke’s hand flew from her hair and slammed hard on the dashboard.

“Pull the fucking car to the side of the road NOW,” she yelled, her breathing increasing as he decelerated and did as he was told. Clarke pushed the door open with all of her force, running as fast as her feet could take her until she felt the road disappear and the small forest that had been at the side of the road surround her. The green calmed her, the forest reminding her of Wells in some strange way, like a comforting hand but no words, just the safety of a person right by your side who would side with you no matter what.

Clarke reached out for a tree, feeling the rough bark underneath her hand and bringing her forehead forward to rest on it. She tried to regain her breathing, but at the base of everything the heat still sat low in Clarke, boiling up and coursing through her so that every part of her felt on fire. A yell bubbled out of Clarke, slicing through the air and taking up too much space around her.

“Clarke,” a voice came, and she was so happy to hear it be Octavia that she could have cried.

“You know I killed him,” Clarke whispered out, turning toward the voice. Octavia and Raven stood across from her, both wearing matching expressions of worry.

“You didn’t kill him,” Raven assured her, her words coming out almost mathematically, slow and measured.

“Bellamy isn’t actually mad at you, you know that, right?” Octavia explained. “He’s mad because you’re so mad at yourself. He doesn’t understand how you could think of yourself that way.”

“What a hypocrite,” she joked, but her words just ended up sounding defeated and they disappeared with the light breeze that fluttered through her hair.

“Do you want to go back, yet?” Octavia asked. Clarke shook her head, her jaw clenching.

“Your thoughts are too loud, stop thinking what you’re thinking,” Raven pleaded. Clarke tried to send her a reassuring smile, but that too failed, so she reached her hands out as an open invitation. The two of them moved closer, Octavia interlacing her fingers with Clarke’s and Raven grabbing on to her arm and resting a head on her shoulder. The three of them looked at nothing in particular, merely staring off into the trees and listening to the sounds of nature, and the ache that throbbed inside of Clarke lessened.

It wasn’t forgiveness, but it did allow for Clarke’s breathes to come back to a regular rhythm. It wasn’t the best case scenario, but Clarke revelled in the fact that it was better than the worst.

For right now, that was about the best she could do. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang stops at a rest stop and end up picking up more than just gas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter and for the likelihood of grammar errors, if you notice anything feel free to mention it. I just didn't get as much time to edit this chapter as I usually do!

It took a solid twenty minutes before Clarke felt ready to head back, and she felt infinitely grateful that Octavia and Raven stayed resolutely at her side as they did. Bellamy and Finn were leaning against the side of the van as the three girls moved back, words lazily passing between the two boys with a sort of friendliness that surprised Clarke. When Clarke’s presence became noticeable, Bellamy pushed himself off of the van, the conversation between him and Finn ceasing. The two of them remained motionless, Finn, Raven, and Octavia filing back into the car and ignoring the standoff.

There was a sharpness to Bellamy, something hard, and Clarke felt her throat tighten at the thought of it. His hands pushed into his pockets and he nodded to her and then motioned toward the car with another nod that almost felt detached, more motion than anything else. Clarke opened her mouth to say something, but Bellamy was already moving toward the other side of the car before she could get a single word out. Clarke shook it off, shuffling back to the car and sliding back into her seat without comment.

They drove for hours, the conversation minimal, and it wasn’t that the energy of the room was awkward, simply different. Clarke felt like they were all walking on eggshells, hoping she wouldn't but ultimately _waiting_ for her to snap. Usually she would try something to diffuse the built up tension in the room, but she felt exhausted, too tired to find the will to try within her. She stared out the window instead, her eyes following the landscapes listlessly.

It was late afternoon by the time they needed to stop. The gas tank was fluttering dangerously close to empty, and Bellamy careened off the nearest exit, pulling into the rest stop.

“I need snacks,” Raven declared, Finn exuberantly falling behind her as she traipsed forward toward the store.

“I’ve got to pee, you go this, Octavia?”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” Octavia replied, mock saluting him. Bellamy rolled his eyes, but pushed away from the car all the same. Clarke finally released herself from the vehicle, groaning as she stretched her legs.

Now that she was standing and moving, it was obvious that Clarke’s bladder was ready to burst. She walked through the store, chuckling as she spotted Raven concentrating hard on all of the candy in front of her. Finn rushed down the aisle, stopping in front of her and holding up two bags of chips in questioning.

Clarke continued moving to the back, glad to find the bathroom in a semi-sanitary state as she pushed through the door. Her phone vibrated in her pocket, and Clarke pulled it out to find a text from her mother.

Logically, Clarke knew she should probably call her again soon to check in, make sure that everything was ok and assure her mother that she was still alive and well. The problem was it was feeling _hard_ to think rationally recently. Clarke recognized that a lot of the feelings that rambled around inside of her, the thoughts that plagued her mind, were anything _but_ rational. the problem was that knowing that stopped nothing. She still felt it, found herself incapable of escaping it, and so she left the text sit unanswered even though it added more guilt onto the already ridiculously large pile that sat in her chest.

Clarke was the first back outside, and she was surprised to find Octavia very _not_ alone with someone Clarke really did _not_ know. Octavia was leaned up against the side of the car, giggling at something the guy in front of her was saying. He had dark skin and a big stature, a tattoo running up his arm that was more artistic than dangerous, and, _objectively_ , Clarke realized he was attractive, but she wasn’t pulled to him in any way. Octavia, on the other hand, clearly was. 

“Hey,” Clarke stated, the two snapping from their common daze and turning toward her.

“Clarke!” Octavia exclaimed, bouncing on her toes. “This is Lincoln.”

“Hey,” Clarke repeated, her words kind but sprinkled with confusion.

“Nice to meet you,” he welcomed, stepping forward and shaking her hand. As Clarke grabbed his hand and shook firmly just the way her father had taught her, Octavia silently jumped behind him and fanned herself drammatically. Remarkably, Clarke managed to keep her face unmoved by the hilarity of her friend, though it was difficult from the laugh that threatened to bubble out of her.

“Lincoln,” Octavia began, “is heading to Arizona.”

“So are we,” Clarke stated.

“Exactly!” Octavia beamed. “Lincoln’s ride could only take him this far, which means he’s basically stranded. I told him we could help him out!”

“Oh,” Clarke sputtered, “um...I don’t think Bellamy-”

“Hey guys and stranger,” Bellamy spoke, appearing as if he had almost been summoned by the speaking of his name. “Who’s this?”

“Lincoln!” Octavia answered.

“He needs a ride,” Clarke finished for her, widening her eyes pointedly. Bellamy’s body tightened at the words.

“Clarke...can we talk for a minute?”

Clarke followed closely behind, so closely that by the time Bellamy snapped around she had to stumble back a few steps.

“Before you yell at me, I didn’t agree to anything! Octavia was talking to him when I came out, which was barely a minute before you arrived,” Clarke reasoned.

“We can’t possibly bring him along. Do you see how big he is? He could easily murder one of you.”

“I don’t know, he’s pretty strong. I think he would probably murder you too.”

“Really? I think I could hold my own just fine. What I lack in size I-”

“Oh my god, _so_ not the point,” Clarke bursted, cutting him off. “What are we going to do?”

“Do about what?”

Clarke looked away from Bellamy to find Raven and Finn a few feet away. Clarke rushed forward and grabbed their arms, pulling them back into their small huddle.

“Octavia just met some murder-y looking stranger-”

“He was actually rather polite.”

“Not the time, Clarke,” Bellamy snapped. “The stranger wants a ride to Arizona and she wants us to give it to him.”

Raven looked around the two of them to get a view of the scene Bellamy and Clarke had just left, eyeing Lincoln appreciatively. “He’s pretty hot.”

“Yea, great way to base off whether we should drive in a car with him for days.”

“Well, why don’t we use our best weapon,” Raven offered with a shrug like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Reyes, what the hell are you talking about?” Bellamy sighed.

“Finn,” she answered, ignoring the scoff that left Bellamy’s mouth. “For having questionable morals himself from time to time, he’s actually scarily good at reading other peoples’.”

“It’s true,” Finn spoke up. “I have a full proof system.”

“You care to share it with us Dr. Phil?”

“A master never reveals his secrets,” he added with a quick wink, jogging over to the two.

The three of them watched the scene unfold in front of them with different degrees of curiosity and fascination. Finn patted Lincoln on the back, moving in for a shake Lincoln readily responded to. The two of them conversed easily, laughter flying from their mouths, and Clarke felt pretty confident she knew what the answer was going to be far before Finn turned toward them and shot them a hearty thumbs up.

It only took them fifteen minutes in the car for it to become painfully obvious that Finn had been right about Lincoln. He naturally brought ease to those around him, and Clarke was thankful for the energy change he brought to the group. Everyone seemed to enjoy his presence, Bellamy excluded that was, and Clarke hoped that the whole situation didn’t come back to bite them in the ass. With her luck, unfortunately, it wouldn't be all that improbable that it did. 

“Why are you heading to Arizona?” Bellamy questioned, suspicion thick in his voice.

“Play nice,” Clarke warned under her breath, Bellamy shooting her a side glare. As far as he was concerned they were all traitors.

“I have a friend out there and we’re starting a business together,” Lincoln supplied.

“You’re starting a business and you don’t have a car?” he questioned.

“It got stolen a week ago,” he admitted. “My old roommates offered to drive me this far since they were planning on camping not that far from here, but I was going to attempt to hitchhike it the rest of the way. It was either pay for a plane ticket or save it to buy a truck my Aunt Indra is selling out there. Truck it was.”

“Well, you’re lucky you found us,” Octavia declared, smiling widely over at him. Clarke almost felt bad for the poor guy, because when Octavia wanted something there was no stopping her until she got it, and right now? Octavia had her eyes set straight on Lincoln. Not that he seemed to mind that much, Clarke reasoned.

“What do you do?” Bellamy continued his interrogation.

“I’m a tattoo artist,” he answered. “My friend Anya and I are going into business together.”

Clarke could practically feel the distaste roll off of Bellamy in waves to her left.

“Wait, are you Lincoln Woodson?” Finn questioned, recognition suddenly dawning on him. “Wait, you totally are!”

“How do you know who he is?” Clarke asked.

“About roughly half a year ago Raven started thinking about getting a tattoo and I did some research on the best places to go. Man, you were ranked third in the whole country for best tribal tattoos.”

“Finn, how in the world did you remember that?” Raven scoffed. Finn merely shrugged in reply.

Bellamy’s mouth perched open to speak, but before anything else could come out, the car began to sputter and slow down. “What the fuck?” he rushed out, guiding the car to the side of the road. “You are fucking _kidding_ me,” Bellamy exclaimed, slamming his hands down on the wheel.

“What?” Clarke followed, pushing toward him and eyeing the dash. “Oh my _God_.”

“Octavia Augustina Blake, did you not put any gasoline this car?”

All sound in the vehicle stopped, all eyes turning toward her in the back. Octavia's cheeks reddened and she physically collapsed, hitting her forehead against her knees. “I’m so sorry, I got distracted,” she mumbled.

Bellamy let out another groan and Clarke couldn’t help but burst into laugher. The whole situation was absolutely ridiculous. Octavia being so distracted that she forgot to fill the car up with gas? Absolutely hilarious.

“Please stop laughing,” Bellamy groaned, rubbing a hand down his face.

“I- can’t,” she wheezed, the laughter consuming her. Soon Raven had joined in and Finn soon followed, the three of them practically shaking the car with their side-splitting cackling. Octavia still appeared too mortified to join and Clarke assumed it was merely politeness that stopped Lincoln from joining in.

“Clarke,” Bellamy began, reaching out and grabbing her arm, “we’re discussing strategy, outside, now.”

“Thank you for the invite!” Raven called after them, but the pair ignored it as they exited the car and met in the middle at the front bumper.

“First, stop laughing,” Bellamy ordered.

“Ok,” Clarke agreed, breathing deeply and attempting to compose herself. “Ready for the next step.

“Someone is going to have to go get gas,” he decided.

“I’m assuming you’re insinuating that I do it?” Clarke stated. “You have to come with me, though.”

“I can’t leave my sister with him,” he hissed, raising his eyebrows.

“Oh, so it’s better to send me off with him? Or send me off with Finn? Or, here’s the best one, me and Raven? That’s a freaking dateline special just _waiting_ to happen!”

“So you expect me to just leave her here with him? Unprotected?”

“She sure as hell wouldn’t leave him to come with us, and she isn’t unprotected! She has Finn and Raven to watch out for her. Also, I’m not entirely convinced that if I leave you here you won’t murder someone.”

Bellamy scowled, closing his eyes for a second as he thought over his choices. Clarke stepped forward, touching his arm lightly. His eyes snapped open, softer than they had been earlier, and he released a long breath.

“You can’t control everything,” she replied. They were dangerous words, probably hitting far too close to their argument from earlier, but they seemed to calm him slightly anyway. “Don’t look now, but I think the kids are watching.”

Bellamy turned toward the car despite the warning, and true to Clarke’s words, Raven and Octavia were both leaning through the front seat to watch the interaction. Upon being discovered, they tried to rush back, but the damage had already been done.

“Let’s go tell the little rascals the plan,” Bellamy deadpanned, but he found it impossible not to release a smile, no matter how small, at the joke.

“Bellamy Blake does have a soft spot,” Clarke mocked in reply. Clarke was pretty sure Bellamy scowled or rolled her eyes at the comment, but he was too far ahead for her to see his face.

“Ok here’s the plan,” Bellamy began.

“I’m so sorry, Bell!” Octavia burst out, her eyebrows pushed together and her face dripping guilt.

“You can’t control everything,” Bellamy replied with a shrug, turning toward Clarke and sending a quick wink in her direction.

“Bellamy and I are going to go get gasoline, you guys are going to hold down the fort, and we’re all going to try not to get murdered by a bearded, hick stranger,” Clarke announced.

“Clarke, please watch out for my brother,” Octavia pleaded, looking slyly over at Bellamy. Clarke saluted her in reply, pushing away from the car and feeling Bellamy fall in line beside her.

“So...forward or backward?” Clarke questioned.

“Behind was too far, we have to push forward,” Bellamy declared.

Bellamy did just that, and Clarke followed dutifully by his side.    



	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Clarke's long trek to the gas station is made a little easier with some unexpected help.

The pair pushed forward unhindered down the road, the time stretching in front of them and only the silence sitting between them. The lack of sound wasn’t heavy, but it did feel like a sweater that just didn’t fit right, the wool the slightest bit itchy. Clarke wondered _when_ it had settled over them, but she realized she knew the answer so it had been a stupid question to start out with. Like all aspects of her life recently, it was simply just another thing to throw on the pile of _entirely_   _her fault_.

As Clarke’s mind wandered, listening to the rhythmic sound of their footsteps on the gravel, she was suddenly stirred from thought by the sounds of a car somewhere behind them. She turned, noticing Bellamy do the same, and eyed the small Honda that was slowing on the highway and coming to a stop just to their left. Clarke’s heart seemed to skip a beat, turning toward Bellamy with an anxious expression. “Jesus, we really are going to die.”

“We aren’t going to die,” he pushed back. The two of them turned toward the car, only their heavy breaths filling the space as the passenger side window rolled open.

“Are you Bellamy and Clarke?” a women asked, dark-skinned and clear-eyed. Clarke had never witnessed someone who looked so much like a goddess, a vivid emerald floor length summer dress adorning her body. There was something undeniably elegant about the way she held herself, a sort of energy that Clarke had a feeling one must merely be born with.

“How do you know who we are?” Clarke asked.

“We stopped by your van back there to see if you needed any help and they told us you were already adventuring forward. Would you like a ride?”

“You feel safe, princess?” Bellamy mumbled, an eyebrow raised.

“With you at my side? Always,” she replied, smirking as he pushed her toward the door.

“Thank you,” Clarke commented as he shut the door behind them, the fresh wave of air conditioning that blew over them sigh-worthy.

Now that Clarke was settled, she finally eyed the driver who had been practically invisible because of the tinted windows before. She was beautiful in her own right, long, wavy hair that was held back with several complicated braids and piercing green eyes that were situated forward, but her beauty was more feral, fierce. The girl in the passenger seat looked like she could rule worlds with words, the girl in the driver seat looked like she could do it with a sword. In the long run it probably made them an excellent pair.

“I’m Costia, this is Lexa,” she introduced from the passenger seat, twisting around and smiling hugely at the two of them in the backseat. “It’s good we got you two, the next gas station isn’t for a couple of miles. It would have been a long walk in this heat.”

“Well, we’re very grateful,” Clarke stated, smiling back at her. She was a hard person to not like, Clarke realized; she was the kind of person that even when you were mad you probably couldn’t really find it in yourself to be cruel to, the anger slipping away like a long forgotten memory.

“Where are you guys heading?” Costia questioned.

“We’re going to the Grand Canyon first, then Scottsdale, then the California coast,” Clarke answered.

“Many a mile still ahead,” Costia stated. “We’re heading to Portland ourselves. We’ve had this yearly road trip tradition since High School, so we keep it going every year with a new place.”

“They didn’t ask, Costia,” the driver spoke. Clarke was surprised to hear the timbre of Lexa’s voice, finding it richer than she expected from her delicate features. Clarke’s eyes snapped instinctively toward Costia to see if she had been offended by the words, but she merely shrugged in reply, clearly used to that sort of reaction.

“Don’t be a grump,” Costia chided.

“It’s fine, Lexa, I was curious,” Clarke spoke up. Lexa’s body tensed at being spoken to, clearly surprised for some reason. It was impossible for Clarke not to get the distinct impression that Lexa wasn’t used to many people approaching her without fear or caution, her stoic exterior pushing people away without even meaning to do it.

“Clarke, right?” she confirmed, her eyes finding Clarke’s in the rearview mirror. There was something about the gaze that made Clarke shift slightly in her seat, but she nodded back calmly. “What do you do, Clarke?”

“What does that even mean?” Clarke joked. “You ask like you mean more than just a profession, like something philosophical.”

“Most of the time professions are just something that tie us down, an obligation and not really an expression of who we are,” Lexa stated. “What do you _want_ to do, Clarke?”

“What the fuck…” Bellamy trailed off under his breath, only loud enough for Clarke to hear it in her ear. She gave him a warning gaze, but it was hard to fight off the smile that it caused on her lips.

Truthfully, the words had struck a chord with Clarke. What _did_ she want? Where did she want to go? Sure, she had been moving far away from home for a few days, but she couldn’t remember the last time she had ever ran _toward_ something with a passion that felt genuine. There had been simple things she had done, things because she wanted to get into a good college or because her mom had pushed her, but none of it made her feel full, content. Clarke couldn’t truly remember the last time she had felt heavy with something that wasn’t bad, something that didn’t rot away at her from the inside.

“Honestly?” she began, noticing the encouraging nod from Costia out of the corner of her eye. “I just want to be happy.”

“Beautifully put, Clarke,” Costia praised, smiling widely at the words.

“And what’s stopping you?” Lexa asked, more of a statement than a question. Her words hit Clarke full on in the chest, pushing her back with a sense of dread.

There were a million things that were stopping her. There was the guilt that ate away at her, pulsing through her veins and pumping through her heart almost constantly. There was the image of her dead father, his lifeless form as she had screamed from the other side of the car for help. Her mother and her endless dreams, expectations, tight-lipped smiles over family dinners that had been weighing on her mind for practically forever. There was the helplessness that Clarke felt, like nothing could ever be ok again that seemed to stem from somewhere hidden deep within her. It was all in her head, probably, but it was far easier said than done to simply erase it all or push it to the side.

She felt happy when she was with her friends, Clarke acknowledged. When Octavia got too dramatic or Raven cracked an inappropriate joke, the way Finn rolled his eyes in the most loving of ways...they all brought her joy, they all made her feel lighter. There was the secret smile that Bellamy was always trying to hide, the side looks he gave to only her and the way he always seemed to know when she needed help, even when _she_ didn’t know it. She could feel his gaze even now, trying to push past her borders and read straight into her mind, and as annoying as it was it also made her heart clench in the best of ways.

Clarke turned toward Bellamy, eyeing him with a soft gaze. More than anything she wanted to tell him that she was sorry, that she didn’t mean a single thing she had said earlier, or at least the harsh words she had spoken against him. How little time had passed and yet Clarke and Bellamy were in such tremendously different positions, unlikely partners, friends even, when before this trip they had only been unwilling acquaintances at best.

Whatever ill feelings he still had toward her after their argument, she didn’t want it anymore. She wanted the strange tear that had occurred in their relationship to be mended, because whether she was willing to admit it or not, Clarke had come to rely on Bellamy in some way recently. She smiled sadly at him, finding it hard to continue to meet his gaze as confusion set in, and she turned back toward Lexa.

“The usual suspects, I suppose,” she admitted. “Guilt, regret, probably all things that are just inside of my head. Why, what do you do, Lexa?”

Lexa turned the wheel the slightest bit, the car moving off of the highway and onto the exit with a sort of professional ease. “I try to live every day to make those I’ve lost proud.”

“That’s incredibly honorable,” Clarke declared, watching the way Costia reached out and rubbed Lexa’s arm with a sort of envy. Costia’s eyes were filled with such warmth, such admiration, so much _love_ when she gazed at Lexa. With all of her heart Clarke wanted that for herself some day, but she just wasn’t all that sure she was capable of such love or, worse yet, that she deserved it.

“We live for those who can’t,” Lexa stated with a shrug, pulling the car up to the gas pump.

“Bellamy, would you like to come with me to find you guys some gas cans so you can fill them up and take them back with you? Let the philosophers have a few more minutes,” she joked, pushing out of the car with a sense of grace. Bellamy nodded, sending Clarke a quick look she couldn’t quite decipher - anger? disgust? unwillingness? - before following in Costia’s short but determined footsteps.

“How long have you and Costia been together?” Clarke questioned, leaning up against the car as Lexa opened the gas tank.

“The two of us have been together forever. Not dating all that time, obviously,” Lexa stated. It was clear speaking so much was difficult for her in some ways, but it was easier when it was about Costia. The words came out smoother, happier, and she clearly loved her deeply. Clarke’s heart ached with want. “We were neighbors when we were little, and I used to always think she hung the moon. She had a million stories to tell and a million imaginary worlds for us to explore.”

Clarke waited for her words to continue, watching her face as her expression changed with the words.

“I never realized why my parents were always a little weary about me hanging out with her until High School. It turns out my parents were more racist than I realized,” Lexa admitted with a shrug, anger pushing the words. “They didn’t like that she was black, can you imagine? In this day and age? They were fine with their daughter being a lesbian but they couldn’t stand me dating another race. Completely ridiculous.”

“So what happened?” Clarke prompted.

“Costia and I have been to Hell and back,” Lexa stated. “I had to choose her. I’ll always choose her. I’m sure you understand, though.”

“What?” Clarke questioned, watching Lexa turn to face her as she explained her words.

“You and Bellamy,” she replied. “It’s clear he cares about you and you look at him the same. The two of you seem like you’d go to the ends of the Earth for the other, or did I misread that?”

“No,” Clarke answered with a smile, watching as Bellamy and Costia exited the store, the two of them laughing at some joke. She turned toward Lexa and looked at her softly, thinking about her words, “you aren’t really wrong. He’s certainly worth it.”

“The problem is each of you think you aren’t worth it but see that the other is,” Lexa declared, grabbing the receipt for the gas and stepping toward Clarke. She laid a tentative hand on her arm, her eyes softening as she tried to make Clarke understand. “Life is much more enjoyable when you know your self worth.”

“Trust me,” Clarke declared. “I’m working on it.”

Clarke saw no need to correct Lexa on how together her and Bellamy were, in the long run it really didn’t matter. She hadn’t lied when she said Bellamy was worth it, Clarke truly and honestly believed he was.

At some point between the door of the gas station and the gas pump, Bellamy’s face had soured without Clarke noticing. Stepping forward, she perched her mouth as if to say something, but then noticed the tenseness of his shoulders and decided to let it drop indefinitely. He wasn’t going to answer honestly with Costia and Lexa standing right there, and asking would just end up making him more tense.

Bellamy filled the two gas cans, setting them between Clarke and himself in the back seat as they pushed back into the car. Clarke didn’t know why Bellamy’s mood had shifted so suddenly, but she tried to not let it get to her as she spoke with Lexa and Costia. In another life, Clarke was fairly sure the three of them would have been pretty good friends, but she had a feeling even in this one there was something about the two of them that was going to be hard to forget.

“I hope you don’t mind that we let you off here, but if we keep going we’ll have to go through the toll again,” Costia supplied as Lexa pulled the car to a stop.

“Totally understand,” Clarke replied, her words grateful. “Thank you so much for your help.”

“Just paying it forward,” Costia replied sheepishly, shrugging slightly. Lexa rolled her eyes, and Clarke felt a sudden urge to laugh at the innocent interaction. “You two be good now, you hear?”

“We’ll try our best,” Bellamy replied sardonically. “Good luck with the rest of your trip.”

“Thanks Bellamy,” Costia stated.

“Good luck you two,” Clarke spoke, patting them both briefly on the arm and sending one last look before exiting the car. Bellamy and Clarke stood stationary, watching the car turn around and head back down the other way and out of their sight before pushing forward.

“Let me take one,” Clarke offered, reaching out to Bellamy who resolutely ignored her. “What now?”

“Nothing now, I have it,” he replied, his eyes trained forward.

“You won’t even look at me, Bellamy,” she argued.

“Clarke,” he breathed out, his words tense as he finally turned his gaze toward her, “you really shouldn’t flirt with strangers, we do not need another Lincoln situation on our hands.”

“You thought I was flirting with Costia?” she exclaimed with a laugh.

“No,” he corrected, “you were flirting with Lexa who was very clearly flirting back.”

“Bellamy! That's why you were tense?” she cried out, amusement ripe in her words. “You do realize Lexa and Costia were dating, right? They’re in a committed relationship.”

“Shit,” Bellamy whispered out with a sort of realization.. “That makes so much more sense now.”

“Yea, you dipshit,” she joked, laughing through the words. “You sound like you were a little jealous.”

“I’m sorry, what?” he replied, looking at her with raised eyebrows. “I was not jealous.”

“You were totally jealous,” she singsonged, eyeing him innocently. Bellamy rolled his eyes and nudged her with his shoulder, the two of them continuing forward side by side. “Octavia said you weren’t really mad at me,” she blurted.

“Does it look like I’m mad at you?” he proposed.

“No, but earlier. I wasn’t exactly nice to you,” she admitted. “I just want to make sure we’re good.”

“We’re good,” he promised. Clarke felt like there was still something he was holding back from her, but his smile felt genuine enough that she could let it slide. The two of them finally crossed the highway as the van came into sight, noticing Raven and Octavia laying across the hood while Lincoln was nonchalantly sketching the two of them. Finn laid helplessly on his back in the dirt, his hands holding a book in front of him that he was clearly trying to read.

“We have gas!” Clarke announced, watching her friends slowly come back to life.

“We started to worry that we were going to die out here,” Octavia explained. “We realized all he had to survive off of was a bag of cheetos and a bag of cool ranch doritos, neither of which I think I would be able to claw from Raven’s hands.”

“The cheetos are very sacred to Finn and I,” she declared honestly, pushing herself up from her laying position. “Fill this baby up and let’s get going!”

“You’re welcome,” Bellamy joked, setting down one gas can as he unscrewed the cap to his gas tank and filled the van up. “Everyone better be back in this van ready to go by the time this can is empty!”

Clarke watched her friends become more alive, scuttling to get back into the van. She joined them in their hectic energy, ready to head back on the road as she heard her friends mutter around her. A minute later Bellamy slid back into the front seat, and Clarke felt a weight release itself from her chest as the car eased back onto the road, her friends’ chatter filling the space to the brim and the fresh air circulating around them, clean and crisp and invigorating.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke checks in with her mother and the group stops for dinner.

“Please can we stop for some food?” Octavia spoke for the third time in the last two minutes. Clarke watched Bellamy’s hands tense on the wheel while his eyes remained steadfastly forward.

“We’ve barely been in the car, Octavia,” he replied, his voice a steady level. It was clear in Bellamy’s mind stopping was a nuisance, and Clarke understood the need to just keep driving (she felt it herself, like a ticking inside of her that just wouldn’t stop beating), but she also knew that it was past dinner and Octavia was a consistent eater.

“We’ve been in the car for three hours! We’ll have to stop for gas anyway, _please_ ,” she pleaded. Clarke shifted her body, unlatching her seatbelt so she could turn around, sitting crosslegged and leaning her back against the dashboard. Raven shot her a secret smile, one reserved just for her, and Clarke returned it with a wink.

It had only been three hours, but it was clear Octavia and Lincoln were two people who deeply understood each other. Ever since they had got the car back up and working, there had been a constant wave of whispering between the two of them. Raven had already sent Clarke a handful of texts of overheard conversation followed by a string of overexcited emojis (it was hard to cover up their mischievous laughter, Finn and Bellamy bonding with an annoyed look through the rear view mirror after it had happened a few too many times). Even now, Lincoln was sitting in the middle spot of the back seat  so his legs could spread out, Octavia turned sideways with her own legs spread out over his lap, and it was evident that already their physical boundaries had been broken away.

“We have like six and a half hours left,” Bellamy declared. “If we just push-”

“You want Octavia Blake to wait six and a half hours for food? Bellamy, you have _lived_ with her, right? You understand what you’re suggesting?” Raven spoke up with a raised eyebrow.

“Hey! I’m not that bad,” Octavia said.

“I’m pretty sure you once ate two mac n’ cheese boxes singlehandedly,” Raven replied.

“In her defense,” Finn spoke up, apparently more in the conversation than the book on his lap alluded to, “it was shaped mac n’ cheese. There’s barely anything in those boxes.”

“Thank you, Finn! Someone here is clearly reasonable,” Octavia spoke. Clarke watched Lincoln’s face to see how he was responding to all of this, a sly smile curving up at the edges of his face and his eyes alight with mirth. He caught her eye, and at first Clarke felt taken aback, nervous about being caught, but he sent her a calm smile that Clarke returned easily.

“Would you like me to add in my two cents?” Clarke finally stated, her friends eyeing her. Bellamy grumbled something underneath his breath, whether it was an affirmative or negative Clarke couldn’t begin to tell, but she continued anyhow. “We stop for dinner and gas, we’ll have to eventually anyhow, and with luck we can push the rest of the way to Scottsdale. If you and I switch off driving, Bellamy, we’ll be there by morning.”

“Clarke always has the best ideas!” Octavia exclaimed. “Especially the stopping for dinner part, _so_ smart!”

Clarke rolled her eyes and turned to Bellamy. He seemed to be contemplating, the smallest line between his two eyebrows in place. There was something about his profile that made her fingers itch, and Clarke was suddenly hit with the desire to grab her pad of paper and sketch him out before the scene slipped between her fingers.

“We can load up on energy drinks,” Clarke offered. “You know that lazy lot back there will fall asleep way too early -- I’ll keep you company.”

“I’d argue, but you’re probably right,” Raven admitted.

“Fine,” Bellamy spoke several high intensity seconds later, a loud cheer coming from the back of the car after the words, “but I don’t see anywhere to go besides cheap bars.”

“I’m desperate,” Octavia called. “A cheap bar is actually perfect.”

Bellamy nodded, and they drove on for a few more minutes before he slowed the car and pulled into a parking spot in front of some bar, the sign only half lit up, the name indecipherable. Clarke didn’t think much on it, instead choosing to follow her friends as they excitedly pushed out of the car and toward the door.

By the time Clarke’s door was shut behind her, Octavia was already pushing into the bar with Lincoln hot on her trail. Raven waited for her to catch up, and Clarke fell easily in pace by her side. As they hit the door, Bellamy and Finn actually having a civil conversation behind them, the weight of her phone suddenly felt heavy in her pocket.

“What’s up?” Raven asked as Clarke suddenly stood frozen in her spot.

“I should probably call my mom,” she replied, trying to throw an encouraging smile Raven’s way. “You go on in, I’ll be right behind you. Order me a coke, would you?”

“And rum? Of course,” Raven spoke through the most roguish smile Clarke had ever seen from her.

“Just a coke, Raven,” she repeated.

“Coke and rum, got it Clarke,” Raven called, pushing through the door before Clarke could argue her point some more. Finn slipped through the door shortly after her, and Bellamy halted for a moment with his hand on the handle, the door still ajar.

“You good?” he asked.

“Everyone ever tell you that you’re a worrier, Blake?” she answered. Bellamy shook his head with his mouth set somewhere between a smirk and a smile before turning his eyes back to her.

“Only princesses it would seem.” Clarke stuck her tongue out at him, but he had already slipped inside of the bar, the door shutting silently behind him. Her hand moved toward her pocket slowly, like pushing through quicksand, and she eyed her phone for too long as it sat in her palm

“Clarke!” her mom answered on the second ring. There was a rustling of papers from the other end, and Clarke wondered what she was doing. Reading a book? Paperwork in her office? Leafing through old photo albums like she did for hours on end after her father’s funeral? “How are you?”

“Alive, unharmed, tired,” she admitted. Clarke noticed a picnic table sitting in high weeds 20 feet or so away, and she pushed through the high grass to sit atop of it.

“Good,” Abby spoke, “that’s good.”

Silence settled between them, but it wasn’t as heavy as Clarke was worried it might be. It was more anxious than anything else, filled with a sort of nervousness at the tentativeness of the conversation. Clarke could feel Abby’s words were hanging from strings, thread even, and she was trying to make them as light as possible as to not ruin the moment.

“Do you remember when Dad woke us up real early that long weekend you two had off? We argued so much as he pushed us to get dressed, to throw things into some bags.”

“You had school and he called you in,” Abby recalled. There was a softness to her voice that reminded Clarke of the way her mom looked at her father, and she wondered if her mother felt him in the room with her, if her mind was placing her straight back into the memory. “He drove us three hours without telling us where we were even going and we ended up at this beach...I can’t even remember the name now.”

“He rented us this absolutely horrendous motel room, you remember?” Clarke spoke, a vividness filling out her words. “And he made us put on our suits and we walked the whole length of that stupid beach because he didn’t want us to miss a single inch of it. We ate burgers and he bought me one of those dingy weaved bracelets that the gas station had sitting on the counter every time we went into it...by the time the trip was over my whole arm was lined with them.”

“Do you have any of them left?” Abby asked.

“No,” Clarke spoke. She closed her eyes, feeling the chill of the night air caress her skin. The stars blinked into existence as she opened them, the sky beautiful in front of her. At home she was too close to the city to properly see the stars, but out here they were so bright and twinkling that they held a sort of magic all their own. Suddenly Clarke felt like crying at the overwhelming sensation, her words coming out a little choked from the lump in her throat. “They all got worn out or disappeared. They’re all gone now.”

“He’s not gone, Clarke,” Abby replied.

“I was talking about the bracelets, mom, not-”

“He’s everywhere,” Abby insisted, her words the kind of persistent tone Clarke was used to overhearing from her phone calls that were all business. “I see him in the trees out back or when the controller does that thing where it skips over a channel? I don’t think he’s going to disappear, we love him too much for that.”

Clarke’s words caught in her throat, an angry tear pumping from her eye and rolling down her cheek. It slipped down her face, and she reached up to furiously wipe it away. “I see him in my thoughts,” she spoke, “because I can’t stop thinking about it. I remember him behind the wheel, smiling over at me and then there was light and then we were rolling over and over and over again and the sounds, everything cracking, the glass in my-”

“Clarke, please don’t,” Abby pleaded.

“I can’t get it out of my head,” she spoke, her voice dangerously low. Abby’s breaths came in puffs, rough and jagged over the line, and Clarke was reminded again what a burden she must be for her mother. In one way a reminder of her lost love, in another a pain in the ass who never listened.

“Come home, Clarke. I can’t do anything for you halfway across the country.”

Clarke thought over the words and realized how unappealing they were. As sad as it was to admit, if she went home there wasn’t anything her mom could do for her there either. She wasn’t quite sure why she had admitted those things to her mother, mostly because of the deep seated need for her mother’s love that still ached within the corners of her mind, but it was clear this was something Clarke needed to do for herself.

“I don’t want to come home,” Clarke broke the silence.

“Clarke, come home. This trip is ridiculous, and I won’t-”

“Please don’t yell at me, I didn’t call for us to fight,” she replied. The words were true, despite the anger that Clarke almost constantly harbored for her mother, there had been no ill intent in the call. There _had_ been an almost primal need to hear her mother’s voice and most definitely an obligation that sat heavy in her heart to be a better daughter to the only parent she still had left.

“Then why did you call?” she sighed, her voice exhausted.

“To tell you that I’m ok mostly,” Clarke spoke. “I don’t know.”

“Well make sure that stays true, will you? I called Thelonious to let him know that you’d most likely be stopping in the next few days, so he’ll be expecting you guys.”

“How did you know?” Clarke replied incredulously.

“I figured the plan to go to the other coast hadn’t changed and I knew you would make a few predictable pit stops. With you and Octavia in the car it wasn’t too much of a jump to know you would want to see Wells, especially with everything that’s happened.”

“Wow,” Clarke responded. She didn’t know what else to say, so she remained silent, her mother filling in the silence for her.

“I know I haven’t always been the best mother, Clarke. God knows I didn’t have a good mother to learn from, but know I care. I have no place to tell you what to do, you’ve got it figured out just fine by yourself, but I’m here if you need me. Just please be careful.”

“I don’t have it figured out,” Clarke admitted, the words seeming to release something within herself.

“Welcome to adulthood,” she scoffed in reply. Clarke laughed, the knot still in her throat, but she felt her mother smiling over the line and it made her feel a little safer. “Be safe.”

“Bye mom.”

The phone clicked off and Clarke brought it back to her pocket. Her eyes roamed hungrily over the stars above her, letting herself catch her breath after the phone call before deciding to head into the bar. It felt nice to patch things up with her mother, well, nice was too understated of a word for it. It was relieving, calming, and Clarke felt the littlest more ready for the world around her when she pushed into the bar.

It only took her a little bit to find the group of her friends sitting around a few tables pushed together. The bar itself was populated but not overly so, cheerful but not too much, and rowdy but not dangerous. Clarke found she liked the mixture of it, and she eased her way through the light crowd and toward the table.

“How was Mama Griffin?” Raven asked as Clarke plopped down into her seat. Clarke shrugged back in reply, but it mustn’t have looked too pathetic because Raven smiled cheerily back and handed her the drink she had ordered.

“This is coke, right?” Clarke asked.

“Coke,” Raven promised. Clarke brought it up to her mouth, taking a sip just as Raven spat out, “and rum.”

“Raven!” Clarke chastised as soon as she had pushed down the drink. The table all looked amused, especially Bellamy across from her. “You should be against this after all the bashing of underage drinking you did the other day.”

“I said nothing,” he replied, throwing his hands up.

“I can’t drink this if I’m driving soon, so thank you but no thank you.”

“No sweat off my back,” Raven responded. “The bartender is totally in love with me, so basically anything you want is on him.”

“Your ability to manipulate men is terrifying,” Octavia added. Raven shrugged, looking over the menu nonchalantly. The waiter came shortly after to take orders, and the food came quickly after that. Clarke and Bellamy shot each other amused looks over the table as their friends drank the free booze Raven was able to get them feverishly, and by the time the food had all been eaten and the pair was starting to think it was time to get back on the road, their friends were too energized to agree.

“Karaoke starts in a half hour!” Octavia argued. “ _Karaoke_.”

“We’ll find somewhere to do karaoke when we get to Scottsdale, I promise.”

“I don’t believe you,” she replied, narrowing her eyes threateningly.

“They aren’t lying, we have to get back on the road,” Lincoln spoke to her. Besides the two drivers, Lincoln seemed to be the only other one not overly affected by the alcohol (Clarke wasn’t all that surprised, he was a _big_ dude).

“Fine.” She pouted, crossing her arms. “But I have to go to the bathroom first.”

“We’ll head back to the car,” Raven announced. She grabbed on to Finn, and Bellamy warily handed them the keys. The two of them stumbled out, and Clarke could sense Bellamy’s worry over them actually getting to the car, though he remained silent as they walked away from them. Lincoln stood up, and neither commented as he wandered away slightly.

“Ready for the long drive?” Clarke questioned.

“I just want to get there,” he replied.

“Missing Wells, huh?” she joked.

“He’s just dreamy, isn’t he?” Bellamy shot back with a joking smile, Clarke throwing her head back with a quick laugh. “I do like Wells, actually. His dad on the other hand…”

“Will be working hopefully,” Clarke finished. “We won’t have to see him. It’ll be fine.”

Bellamy nodded slowly in reply, his mind wandering away to memories Clarke could only guess at. She had a feeling she knew what was crossing his mind, but there was no point in bringing it up. She didn’t want to start anything, and she knew that the reminder of his past might just make him disappear into himself.

“Where’s Octavia?” Bellamy suddenly asked. “She’s been gone for a while.”

The two of them stood up at the same time, looking around the space for her in case she was walking back. Clarke found her first; she was leaning against a wall, her eyes drooping rapidly, dangerously, and a dark-haired man was pushing closer to her. Bellamy eyes found her a few seconds later, already forcing himself through the crowd to get closer to her, Clarke hot on his heels.

Clarke grabbed his arm as they got toward the edge of the crowd, and he turned furiously toward her. She motioned her head past him, and he snapped back around to find Lincoln rampaging through the crowd toward her. As he reached Octavia and the stranger Lincoln began calmly as he spoke, but it was apparent that whatever the guy had said wasn’t _good_ because Lincoln was pushing him away and throwing such a solid punch he fell straight to the ground.

Octavia fell into Lincoln, wrapping her arms around his neck helplessly and he lifted her into his arms with ease. As he turned around, his eyes found Bellamy’s instantly. Clarke waited, holding her breath as the two stared each other down, but Bellamy nodded once and a breath released itself from Clarke’s mouth. Clarke could tell that whatever fear Bellamy had been having over Lincoln and his trustworthiness, it had disappeared the second he threw a solid punch for his sister. Anyone who was willing to protect her like that was fine in his book. 

As Lincoln walked past them and toward the car, Clarke realized her hand was still clutching on to Bellamy’s upper arm with an iron-clad grip. She relinquished her hold and let her hand fall back to her side, feeling Bellamy’s breaths slow to a more normal pace.

“What are with you girls and creeps hitting on you?” Bellamy tried lamely to lighten the mood, but Clarke could see how scared and angry Bellamy was still underneath his attempt at a calm mask. She smiled back (probably just as pathetically) and grabbed on to his arm, pulling him back to the car. There was no way she could make him feel completely at ease, but Clarke could feel his muscles loosen, his steps fall lighter, and she felt comforted in the knowledge that she was capable of helping in some form.

With how useless she had felt as of late, it was relieving to know she could at the very least do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not the most exciting of chapters, but I hope you guys enjoy! Things pick up next chapter again, I promise :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Clarke learn more about Lincoln. While stopping at a grocery store and driving through the night, the two of them get closer than ever before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AP'S ARE DONE!!! YES!! No more excuses, this baby will be getting updated every week now until it's finished. This chapter was so much fun to write, hope you enjoy it :)

Despite the initial enthusiasm Octavia had possessed before leaving the bar, it didn’t take long for her to pass out in the back seat half sprawled out across Lincoln. It had only taken a few minutes of being on the road, her arms never having let go of Lincoln and her head then planted firmly in the crook of his neck, and as awkward as Clarke suspected the whole thing could be, it didn’t seem that way at all.

Lincoln didn’t seem bothered by it in the slightest, holding a book in front of him with the hand that wasn’t rubbing over her back. He seemed to feel Clarke’s eyes on him and looked up over the pages. Clarke waved at him, sending a soft smile, and she could see his own smile fighting to push through, a corner of his mouth raising.

“What are you reading?” Clarke’s voice was light, trying to not bother Finn and Raven’s sleeping forms. Raven shivered, folding into herself, and Clarke grabbed the blanket that had fallen to the car floor and threw it over her the best she could manage from her position. Lincoln reached out and brought it up over her shoulder, finishing the job.

“Symposium, it’s-”

“Plato, right?” Bellamy interjected. Lincoln nodded, albeit a little surprised, in return. Clarke felt a part of herself brighten at his conversational tone, mostly because it meant that he was warming up to Lincoln (if Octavia was awake she would have felt a million times more excited Clarke was sure), but on top of that, another part of herself was just excited that he was opening up at all. For most people it wouldn’t have seemed like that big of a deal, but to Clarke it was huge.

Bellamy Blake, all rough edges and sharp words, eyes that were more likely to question you or glare you down than offer encouragement, was beginning to embrace people into his life. Not just Lincoln or Clarke, but Finn and Raven too. Clarke was starting to wonder whether he had really been all that rough to start out with or he was just really good at playing his part. Pushing people away for the sake of a simpler life, well, she could certainly understand that.

“A tattoo artist reading a classical Grecian philosophical text? What’s that all about?” he questioned.

“Bellamy is a huge nerd when it comes to Ancient Greece and Rome, you’ll have to forgive him,” Clarke spoke up.

“Am not,” he argued. Clarke shot him a raised eyebrow and he relented, releasing a sigh. “Ok, she’s not lying. I just prefer considering myself a _fan_ of history, specifically that era.”

“It’s a great time period,” Lincoln spoke. “All that beginning of new thought.”

“How’d you get into it?” Clarke turned herself around in her seat, noticing Lincoln set his book down. She felt bad for interrupting his reading, but he didn’t seem all that bothered.

“I read a lot. I like discovering pieces of our world, the things we’ve forgotten existed, the thoughts that have stayed the same even when the whole world has changed. Times change and the way we place words differs, but stories, themes...they never do. Love, revenge, betrayal, all the things that make us human resurface.”

Clarke could tell that Lincoln looked put out at speaking  (she assumed it was from speaking so long, there was nothing else about the phrase that would have reasonably made him uncomfortable), but she liked hearing his rich voice speak of the things he knew. She hoped he could tell that she considered him a part of the team, even though it had been such a short amount of time since he had joined. He seemed to slip so seamlessly into their folds, adding a counterbalance that Clarke hadn’t even realized had been necessary until he carried it with him.

“I guess I like the valiance of it, Ancient Rome specifically. The honor they all carried, sense of duty.” Bellamy’s eyes stayed forward, and Clarke took it as a chance to trace his profile with her eyes. The admittal made sense. After all Bellamy had sacrificed for Octavia, after having to try to keep a family together after his father had abandoned them, honor and a sense of duty were logical things to cling on to.

His hair was unruly, flying in a million different directions, and Clarke felt a desire to reach out and push it into place. There was something about Bellamy that made her want to touch his skin, trail over his freckles, feel the weight of his hand in her own. Not long ago he had seemed so unattainable, like such as asshole truthfully, but somewhere along the way Clarke had realized just how much having someone like Bellamy Blake on your side meant.

A heat of something pushed up through her throat, a feeling that was too dangerous to think on, and she turned away from him. If she let her eyes trail for any longer there was no knowing what she would say, what her hands would think to do, and so she flipped her eyes back toward Lincoln.

A heat creeped up her cheeks as she realized that Lincoln had been watching her watch him. There was a knowing smile, almost more of a half of one really, pulling at his lips. Clarke wanted him to understand that it wasn’t like that; Clarke didn’t like Bellamy like _that_. Sure, there was friendship and sometimes when she looked at him it was like looking at the stars, blinking beauty and unknowable majesty, but she didn’t _like_ him. She respected the hell out of him, couldn’t imagine going back to a time when she didn’t have his knowing eyes trail after her in a strange sense of comfort, but the death of her father had taught her just how dangerous the topic of love was.

Clarke was tired of pulling away and having her fingers burned.

“You’re an artist.”

“How’d you know?” Clarke shifted in her seat, leaning back against the dash again. When she spared Bellamy a quick glance he was already looking at her and she darted her eyes away and back to Lincoln.

“Your hands,” he began. “When you’re looking at things it’s almost like your fingers are waiting for a pencil to slip right into. I get it too.”

“I dabble.” Clarke shrugged. Bellamy snorted. “Shut up.”

“You don’t just dabble, princess. You’re good.”

“To you common folk, maybe. Just because you can’t draw a stick person doesn’t mean my doodles are anything extraordinary.”

“They aren’t doodles,” Bellamy reasoned, shooting a look back at Lincoln with his words.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing them sometime.” Lincoln reached forward, Octavia humming slightly in her sleep at the action, and scratched at his leg. Clarke’s eyes latched on his tattoos; they were intricate, sprawling up his arm so that she could barely decipher where one began and the other ended.

“When did you get your first tattoo?” Clarke asked.

“It was a tradition to get tattoos in my family. You were more out of place if you didn’t have one, so I never saw the stigma with it all. I can’t even remember when it first came, probably before I was even legal. 16? Clearly I haven’t stopped since.”

“They’re beautiful.”

“You’ve never been tempted to get one?”

“I’ve thought about it. I just want it to be something worthy of having on my body. Does that make sense?”

“Absolutely.”

Clarke sat there for a minute more, waiting until Lincoln picked his book back up before turning around. She slipped out of her shoes, bringing her legs up onto the seat and wrapping her arms around her knees.

“What do we have on the clock?”

“Six hours and we’ll be pulling into the Jaha’s well-paved driveway that leads to, what I assume, is probably a mansion.”

“You’re a snob to the rich, you know that right?” Bellamy shot her a glare, but then his eyes were back on the road in record time. “We should stop at a grocery store.”

“Why would we do that?”

“Because the crazy people are asleep which means they can’t complain and there’s no way we can convince them to sit in this car for that long without providing them with substantial sustenance.”

“It’s late, Clarke.”

“I just saw a sign for a 24 hour grocery store, Bellamy,” she teased. Bellamy groaned in response, but he didn’t seem overly upset as he hit his blinker and got off at the next exit with Clarke guiding him along the way. “Will you be ok in here, Lincoln?”

“Yea, I’ll be fine. I’ll watch after everyone and make sure they don’t wake up and wander off.”

“We have another parent!” Clarke exclaimed. “Nice to have you aboard, Lincoln. The number of adults finally match the children.”

“You’re such a weirdo.” Bellamy rolled his eyes and shot out the door, but Clarke sent Lincoln a joking wink before doing the same and making her way toward the grocery store. Grabbing a cart and making their way through the automated doors, the store opened up in front of them, silent and empty. “Let’s just get a few things and get out of here.”

“Fine by me.” Clarke took the cart from his hands, rushing forward and jumping on the lower grate so she could ride it down the aisle. There was something freeing about it and giggles floated from Clarke’s throat as she flew down, reaching out and haphazardly grabbing a bag of chips.

Never before had Clarke been somewhere she was used to seeing packed to the brim so empty, touched by the loneliness of the night. Instead of being depressed, though, she found she loved it. The empty aisles and blinking openness, the quiet and gaping air. The cart slowed and she could hear Bellamy getting closer, only a few steps behind.

Just as Clarke was about to jump down, Bellamy’s arms came out of nowhere and trapped her in place. He pushed the cart forward, turning them into the next aisle with an ease that was nearly disconcerting with its fluency.

“What are you doing?”

“A princess deserves her carriage, right?” he joked. Clarke laughed, the thought sending static through her arms. It was ridiculous, but having Bellamy so close meant feeling his heat flow through the air to her, his breaths floating to her and sending chills up her spine, and there was something about that which made her twitchy. When had Bellamy’s nearness started to make her nervous? And even worse than that, most of the time it was even scarier how right it felt, how _not_ nervous it made her feel.  

“If we get them some donuts they definitely won’t complain. Reasonably we can expect them to sleep at least another four or so hours, so we really only need to get them through three or so.”

“Donuts it is then.” Bellamy guided the cart forward, never complaining as Clarke stayed in her spot. He started to jog a little, Clarke’s hair flying back as they gained a little speed, but his turn was too sharp and the cart hit a bump. Startled, Clarke’s hands slipped from the handle and she fell back into Bellamy.

He grabbed her around the waist, the momentum from the two of them carrying them straight to the ground. A puff of breath and a grunt escaped as Clarke fell on top of him, and her head naturally fell into his chest. She kept it there longer than she should, mostly out of embarrassment, before looking up to meet his gaze.

Bellamy was already looking straight at her, his eyes holding a sort of intensity that made her stomach clench. It made her realize the heat of his hands on her waist, the way it felt to have absolutely no space between their bodies, and it felt dangerous to speak in anything more than a whisper. Any louder might just make everything into startling focus, far too real, and for a moment as good as this, the way the two of them together felt, was too good to let slip away.

“Sorry.” The apology from Clarke was in some way amusing to Bellamy, a sharp laugh bounding from his mouth. His eyes shot down to her lips for a second as she smiled back, but she was sure she had imagined it.

“Not your fault.” Bellamy removed one of his hands from her waist, and before she knew what he was doing it was pushing strands of her hair behind her ear with a tenderness that made her heart jump. A breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening. “Clarke, I-”

“What in the hell happened here?” The two of them scattered at once, the strange intimateness of the moment snapped away. Clarke appraised the guy across from them, an elderly man that looked a little too wobbly to be what she assumed was the only employee working at this hour.

“Runaway cart,” she explained, noticing the boxes of graham crackers that had joined them on the floor when the cart went wayward, running into a display.

“Clean it up, will you? That’s not my job.” He wobbled away from Bellamy and Clarke who were trying hard not to burst into laughter.

“Isn’t that literally part of his job description?” she side-whispered.

“Apparently he isn’t aware of that.” Bellamy picked the boxes up despite the grumbles he released over the subject and noticed the donuts sitting only a few feet away. The two of them picked out the best looking ones, filling the box to the brim and setting it within the cart. “What do you need to stay up?

“Caffeinated soda and some sort of candy. Come on, we can get you some energy drinks on the way.”

Ten minutes later and they were back in the car, two bags heavier and ready to finally get on the road for the long haul. While the two of them had disappeared inside of the store, Lincoln had folded himself around Octavia, the two of them spreading out across the back seat and now firmly asleep.

“Pass me a monster,” Bellamy ordered. Clarke did as she was told, grabbing a soda for herself as she reached through the bag. “You excited to see Wells?”

“You know I am.” Clarke took a swig from her soda, leaning her back against the car door and turning toward Bellamy. “It’s been at least a year since I’ve seen him last. I miss having him around. Don’t get me wrong, I love my friends, but you can’t fill the spot someone leaves, you know?”

“You can’t replace someone,” Bellamy replied. “I get it.”

“Are you nervous about seeing Mr. Jaha?” Clarke watched Bellamy’s face tighten and instantly regretted the words, but her curiosity had gotten the best of her. It wasn’t her most tactful moment, but she decided she would blame it on her lack of sleep and the ridiculously long last few days she’d had.

Bellamy released a slow breath, eyes trained forward. “I don’t like some of the things I’ve done, Clarke, but I also don’t regret them. Everything I did was for Octavia and my family, my reputation didn’t mean all that much to me. Stealing from him was horrible, but that was when my mom was basically unresponsive and I was so-”

Clarke didn’t say anything as his words cut off, his knuckles visibly whitening as they strangled the wheel. He looked pained, and Clarke was amazed yet again by how much Bellamy took on, how much he was willing to do for the ones around him.

“I was so scared,” he continued. His voice was more vulnerable than she had ever heard it, brittle and scarily fragile, and she watched as thoughts pushed the gears in his mind. “I’ve really only been just as scared by one other thing, but even that doesn’t come close. My mom’s fine now, though, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Wait, what’s the other thing that scared you?”

“You’re nosy.”

“I’m _curious_.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes, sending her a challenging side glance before turning back to the road. “That’s enough of Bellamy’s tragic past for the day. Your turn.”

Clarke wasn’t sure what he wanted of her, what he expected her to say. She had piles of things she felt like she could share, but her life was distinctly broken up by before the accident and after and she wasn't quite sure what the situation called for. The selfish part of herself wanted to spill out everything having to do with the accident, release it from the cage that was her mind, but she didn’t want to hurt him for her own comfort. He didn’t deserve to hear it, shouldn’t have to pity her, and truthfully she didn’t want him to look at her that way.

“Can I tell you something? Something I’ve never told anyone before?” Clarke’s fingers tapped rough rhythms on her thigh as her eyes stayed trained on his face. Bellamy turned toward her, sending a sure nod. “I was at a party the night it happened. My mom had pissed me off, just average Abby Griffin and her antics, so I decided to take Raven up on the offer despite the fact that I really didn’t want to go. I drank too much and I called my dad to come pick me up and then I freaked out once he had, spazzing out in the car, distracting him just enough to miss a stop sign. The semi came out of nowhere, he didn’t even notice it when it crashed into us.”

“Clarke-”

“I was mad at my mom for a while, because I felt like it was her fault. I’d gone to the party because of her, but then that faded and I realized that it was all me. I’m responsible and I have to live with that, I get it, but sometimes memories of the whole thing flash in my mind and I think I’m going to go crazy from it all.”

“You can’t carry that, you shouldn’t,” Bellamy replied. Clarke met his eyes, noticing the tenderness that resided within them, but she couldn’t help feeling guilty. She didn’t deserve his kindness, not after all she had done. Instead of facing her fate, taking the penance, she had been reacting in selfish aways. She ran away with her friends and let herself laugh and there was something about all of it that made her feel like she was rotting away from the core.

“I was sitting in the passenger seat,” she began. “I started yelling and he was laughing at me, telling me to calm down, and I remember him smiling over at me. He never got mad at me when I was crazy, he would just smile like it was the funniest thing in the entire world, and he smiled over at me and then there was a light and a crushing blow. Glass shattered around and the car started flipping over and over again. I kept trying to look over at him but my head snapped back and when we finally stopped he was…”

Bellamy stayed silent, the space filling with the anxiety from her open mouth, the words hanging there unfinished. Clarke closed her eyes, taking a breath as the pressure began. She had thought that saying this would make her freer, but trying to finally push out the memories felt like fire rushing up her throat, air fighting its way through but constricting her. Her fingers shook, her whole body feeling hot, and she let her head fall to the seat.

“He was dead.” Bellamy visibly tightened, moving his head slightly away from the road to gaze over her. “I laid in glass for...I don’t know how long and I tried to reach out to him but the seat belt held me back. I stared at his dead body and I couldn’t do a thing about it. How helpless I felt, how helpless I still feel, it’s like this fear coursing through me and sometimes it’s so heavy I swear I can’t breath.”

“You don’t have to feel alone, Clarke.”

Clarke felt a hot tear escape, and she reached up and wiped it away furiously. Bellamy’s hand came off of the wheel, falling to his side for a few seconds before he seemed to make up his mind and grabbed hers. Startled, she looked up to see him still looking forward, and despite the part of herself that desperately wanted to retreat and be all by itself, taking the self-inflicted torture like she felt she deserved, she couldn’t pull away from the comfort of his hold. It was warm, safe, and Clarke interlaced their fingers, letting their hands meet over the cup holder.

The scariest part was how less terrifying it all seemed with Bellamy by her side - the two of them taking on the world together.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke wakes up to a surprise and finally gets her reunion with Wells. After her and Raven overhear something they were very much not supposed to, Clarke has a tough realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me updating within a week! This is a whole new era to my fic writing, I am feeling pretty proud of myself actually :) I hope you guys enjoy, thoughts are always appreciated!!

Clarke shifted awake, warmth spreading through her from the coziness of the bed. The blankets piled high around her, fluffy and clean and white and it was clear that wherever she was it most certainly wasn’t a motel. She tried to compose herself, remember whatever the Hell had happened from the night before, but the last she could seem to recollect was having a half hour left until they got to the Jaha’s, Bellamy’s hand still in her own, and then...nothing.

The blinds were closed, but a small sliver of light peaked through and hit Clarke right in her eyes. As she scooted a little further back, it became abundantly clear that she was not in any way _alone_. A weight was pushing down her side and she shifted her gaze, noticing the arm draped across. The coloring of the skin made it fairly clear who exactly it was behind her, but Clarke turned around anyway. There Bellamy was, face calm and peaceful as he slept, his fingers twitching unconsciously over her back.

A part of her knew she should slip away, but there was something so inviting about the warmth Bellamy provided. She pushed herself in closer, shifting along with Bellamy as he rolled over on to his back. Clarke laid her head across his chest, listening to his even breaths and matching her own breathing with his. She had no idea how she had gotten here, but she let herself enjoy the moment while she still could.

Without meaning to at all, Clarke fell back asleep, only jolting up an hour later when the person below her started to shift and grumble. Bellamy let out a long groan, a hand coming to rub over his eyes as he adjusted to his bearings. Clarke pushed herself away from him, coming up to a sitting position and stretching out her tired limbs.

“Mornin’,” Bellamy spoke, muffled and tired.

“How exactly did I get in here?” Clarke let her hands drop to her sides, turning her eyes toward Bellamy. He smirked over at her, enjoying the anxious energy that flowed from her as he waited to speak.

“What, you don’t think my endless allure lured you in here and you're just too tired to remember the whole thing?”

“Definitely not. Even tired I’m not that stupid.”

“Ouch, princess,” he replied. Bellamy shifted up on to his elbow, his eyes trailing over her the slightest bit before continuing on. “You fell asleep in the car when we were basically here and I didn’t want to wake you. Since we were the ones up the whole night they awarded us the guest room, figured you were too tired to care if we shared.”

“You realize the shit we’re going to get for that?”

“I’ve already carried you in here bridal style, there’s not much more shit you can get at this point.” Bellamy pushed himself off of the bed, sending her a thick smirk over his shoulder as he found his jeans he had tossed on the floor sometime earlier. Clarke strategically kept her eyes off of him as she sat up, reaching for her shoes (the thought that at some point Bellamy had pulled them off of her was too hilarious not to crack a smile) and pulling them on.

“What time is it?”

“A little bit past noon. You should go see Wells, he should be back from his ‘mid-morning engagement’ by now.”

Clarke felt guilty as she realized she hadn’t thought about Wells since waking up, especially since she was sleeping in his house and he was what had pulled them there at all. Excited energy bubbled up from within her, and she bolted up from the bed, ignoring Bellamy’s chuckles as she jogged out of the room and hectically yelled for him.

“Wells!” she called, sliding down the hall and toward voices. Raven, Finn, and Lincoln were all seated at the counter, sharing a bag of chips and a game of cards.

“Hey there, Sleeping Beauty,” Raven chirped. “We were wondering when you’d get up, we were waiting to see if you wanted to get lunch.”   

“100% yes on the lunch, I’m starved, but first I need to see Wells. Where is he?”

“He took Octavia out for a walk to show her something, should be back any minute.”

Clarke barely let Raven finish before she rushed out of the door and down the street, noticing their frames in the distance slowly returning to the house. Despite the clench of her throat as the hot air pushed her breaths out of her, Clarke ran with all of her might toward Wells.

Her body crashed into his, grasping on to him with everything she had. Clarke could hear him laughing out words, but she was clasping on too tightly to truly understand what he was saying. Octavia’s spiraling laugh floated around them, sweet enough to be practically sickening, and suddenly Octavia’s arms were around the two of them too.

“Have I missed you.” Clarke beamed as she pulled back, noticing the matching expression on Wells’ face across from her.

Being around Wells again after so long was like drinking a tall glass of water after an exhausting hike. It was so refreshing, so rejuvenating, and so familiar. You hadn’t realized just how much you needed it until you were downing the whole glass, begging for another one, and having Wells by her side made Clarke feel like a part of herself she hadn’t had for quite some time was suddenly back, foreign in a way that it used to not be foreign at all.

“I promise I’ve missed you just as much.”

“Yea yea yea, this is beautiful and all, but I’m sweating my ass of. This weather is hot and I’m starving. Let’s get back to that mansion of yours, Jaha.”

Wells rolled his eyes, bending down as he braced himself for the jump on his back Octavia took, wrapping her arms around his neck as he piggy-backed her back to his house. Clarke fell in naturally at his side, the same positions they had all held a million times over in what felt like a different lifetime.

“Is your dad at work?” Clarke looked over at Wells just to see him give her a pained look back.

“You haven’t seen me face to face in practically a year and you’re asking about my Dad? I’m feeling so _used_.”

“Still as much of a drama queen. I forgot why you and Octavia get along so well.”

“Well she probably misses me even more now that you and Bellamy are all over each other,” Wells joked. Clarke reached out to slap him, but he faked left and jogged down the driveway away from her.

“I don’t even know why I came to visit you!” Clarke jogged after them, smiling at the giggles that erupted from the pair. The three of them rushed into the house, a collective sigh of contentment released as the cold air flowed over them.

Raven, Lincoln, and Finn were all still seated at the counter, the cards scattered all around them like fallen soldiers in some battle Clarke could not understand (truthfully it had probably been Raven freaking out, cards made her competitive _and_ aggressive). Bellamy had joined them, leaning against the far counter and drinking a water bottle. He looked too regal in front of them, standing tall and watching over them like some God on a pedestal looking out for everyone around him. His eyes found Clarke’s stare and he smirked wide, sending a wink in her direction.

“I’m hungry.” Clarke moved to the counter space next to Bellamy, jumping up and sitting next to him. Raven raised an eyebrow but she happily ignored her, instead choosing to keep her eyes flickering between everyone.

“I can help with that,” Wells announced. “We’ll have to take your van though, I don’t have nearly enough room for all of you.”

“Bellamy is touchy about who he lets drive,” Clarke spoke. Bellamy tapped her side with his elbow, but he didn’t refute the words.

“Well I’ll navigate then, he can drive.”

Clarke felt weirdly upset as Bellamy nodded his approval next to her, like she was being betrayed, but she realized how silly the whole thing was. It was merely a seat in a car, not a position of leadership, but there was something steadfast about the way they’d claimed the seats in the car. They had a system, and Clarke suddenly felt like she was being pushed out, forgotten, but she chalked her emotions up to the long journey. Everything about the way she seemed to be feeling _too_ _much_ was ridiculous, and she decided she needed to calm down.

“Go shower,” Bellamy said, Clarke raising an eyebrow in question beside him.

“Are you saying I smell?”

“I’m saying you should go shower, it’ll make you feel better.”

“I don’t feel bad right now.”

“Tell your face that, or your tense muscles for that matter.”

“You’re an ass.”

“And you love it.” Bellamy and Clarke’s eye stayed locked on one another, the air between the two of them feeling tense and sharp. They snapped apart as someone coughed, the energy dissipating, and Clarke avoided everyone else’s eyes as she left to shower.

“Where’s my bag?”

“We carried it in, it should be sitting by the linens closet.”

“Good.” Clarke walked away from them, conversation erupting like it had never even halted the slightest bit, and went to go shower. Truthfully, she probably really _could_ use it.

* * *

As usual, in the very annoying way he had, Bellamy had been right about the shower. The hot water had helped de-stress her, making her tense muscles melt into a calmer, more collected Clarke. Throwing on one of the sundresses she had thrown in her bags as more of a cautionary measure than anything else, she felt unusually prepared to take on the world ahead of her.

“Don’t you clean up nice.” Raven whistled low, winking heatedly at her. “I might even be into you.”

“Your blatant sexuality no longer flatters me.” Clarke perched herself up onto a stool, noticing Lincoln and Octavia just outside on the back porch, looking out at the pool. Before now Clarke hadn’t even noticed it, but the pool was all sorts of heaven. Clear blue water placed between rocks and trees, chairs that nearly looked more beautiful than her own bed back at home, and suddenly Clarke felt bad for mocking Bellamy and his discrimination against the rich. It practically looked like a palace out there.

“So how was _your_ morning?” Raven spoke, a lewdness to her words as she raised her eyebrows.

“I’ve certainly woken up to worse.” Clarke laughed slightly at the thought, of how tempting Bellamy’s arms had been, how safe she had felt next to him. It had been like all the bad had just disappeared, for those beautiful moments nothing but the two of them existing.  

“You know, Clarke, I don’t mean to push but...do you like him? Can you at least tell me that much?”

“Honestly?” Raven nodded and Clarke leaned herself further against the counter. “I haven’t let myself think about it too much. I don’t really think I deserve anything like that; it’s a lot easier to keep myself away from it if I don’t even know I want it in the first place.”

“Such a cop out.”

“It’s true. Bellamy, despite all of his harsh edges and the smirks he hides behind, is a good person, one of the best I’ve ever met. He’s had a lot of shit in his life, and I don’t believe for one second he deserves any more from me. He can do better than that, he _deserves_ better than that.”

“Clarke you aren’t damaged goods,” Raven reasoned. Clarke smiled over at her, but it was more sad than anything else. As far as Clarke was concerned, Raven’s words had hit it right on the head. Maybe Raven saw her as more than that, but to Clarke that was exactly what she was. She was a broken package, taped over enough to look giveable but nothing you’d want for Christmas, nothing you’d keep on your shelf.

“Aren’t I? I’m all sorts of crazy, Raven, and you can deny it because you’re my friend, but I’m not at all together. I’m spaced out half of the time, I have this whole hero complex where I think I need to take on everything for everyone else, and I have no idea what I want to do with my life. As soon as this road trip is over I’m floating off in space again, this weird mission we’ve gone on is the only thing tying me down at all.”

“Bellamy is good, Clarke, I’ll give you that, but he isn’t perfect. He likes you, no, he _sees_ you. Do you not think he’s got shit too?” Raven sighed, resting her head on her hand as she gave a supportive smile. “Everyone seems to think love is two halfs of a whole, two people making each other perfect or some stupid soulmate crap, but the truth? The truth is sometimes it’s just two broken people coming together to make each other feel a little less broken. It’s just as beautiful and a hell of a lot more realistic.”

“I just think that sometimes people don’t deserve that.” Clarke could feel the familiar prickle at the back of her eyes, the one she had done so well to avoid since the accident. Her shoulders shrugged up half-heartedly, a watery smile taking over her lips, and just as Clarke felt she might actually break, two voices spiraled down the hall and into the kitchen.

“I’m just saying, you should go for it. You clearly care about her. What’s holding you back?” Raven and Clarke flashed their eyes toward each other, matching expressions of panic as they recognized Finn’s voice.

“We shouldn’t be listening to this,” Clarke hissed.

“ _Sh_!”

“I care about her, doesn’t mean I like her like that.” Raven reached an arm out to her, but Clarke was already stepping off of the stool and away from her. Bellamy and Finn’s footsteps stopped, and Clarke instinctively did as well. “Truth is she scares me.”

Clarke’s heart broke, something inside of her snapping apart. She wasn’t even all that sure she could breath, and her eyes locked on to Raven’s, pummeling her with everything she could communicate. She wanted to yell at her about how wrong she was, yell because she was scary, broken, and she had known it this whole time but she had never once thought _he_ would think it.

“I’m going to go wait by the car.” Her voice was breathless, barely above a whisper, and Raven was already pushing off of her own stool to grab at her, but Clarke backed away with what she was sure was the most pitiful attempt at a smile.

“Clarke-”

“It’s fine, I don’t like him, remember?” It sounded like bullshit even to her own ears, but she didn’t want to have this discussion. Bellamy and Finn were walking out of the hallway, and Clarke wanted desperately for them not to see her. She thought for a second Bellamy’s eyes might have been on her as she walked away, mostly because it was a familiar heat, but she rushed out of the room as calmly as she could manage.

Out of all of the people in the world to crush her, Clarke hadn’t even thought for a second that it would be Bellamy. A week ago because she barely cared enough to give him that power, thought of him as a loose friend at best, but now? Now because there was a part of herself that had placed such unwavering trust in him. She had thought they were two people cut from the same stone, but maybe she had been fooling herself this whole time.

People normally didn’t get to Clarke, the hurtful words they said merely sliding right over her, but people weren’t Bellamy Blake. It became abundantly clear she had given away more of her heart than she had ever let herself realize, and it was another steadfast reminder of why love, like, _whatever_ it was that she had felt for Bellamy, was for children. It was a ridiculous, dangerous concept that very rarely ended happily and almost always brought pain.

Clarke had had enough pain to last a lifetime, and she decided she was so _done_ with it. Screw Bellamy Blake and screw feeling because all it did was have everything shatter down around you. It was time for a new Clarke, one who didn’t need the ridiculous fallacy of a happy ever after. Her father hadn't gotten one, her mother who was most likely listlessly flipping through photo albums at home _certainly_ didn’t get one, and Clarke decided maybe pain was just a hereditary thing. She was simply destined for it.

Leaning against the car, the sun beating down around her and not a single other person in sight, Clarke felt pretty certain that alone was the safest she would ever be. It was just a hell of a lot more terrifying to realize it, to accept it and take it in like she knew she should.

Terrified, however, she decided was just what she deserved.

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After deciding to cut herself off, Clarke has to make some tough decisions and realizations.

Clarke barely spoke the rest of the day. She responded when spoken to, adding in to the conversation when it called for it, but the rest of the time she stayed firmly locked within herself. Her face may have looked as peaceful as it generally was, but on the inside her stomach clenched and her brain worked in overdrive and every atom of her being felt like it was exploding and repairing and exploding again.

It all felt like too much, the words Bellamy had spoken simply another thing added on top of an ever growing pile that, until this moment, Clarke hadn’t realized she was stuck underneath. The extra weight suddenly made it all that much harder to breath, and she was glad that no one was noticing the shift within herself because she wasn’t sure she could properly talk about it without crying or yelling or falling apart.

After lunch Clarke made quick work of grabbing her bag from the guest room, shoving all of her odds and ends back into the duffel. She felt him leaning against the door before she saw him, could imagine perfectly the way his arms were crossed and his eyebrows raised, but she didn’t dare look at him until everything had been gathered. When Clarke turned he was standing just the way she had expected, and she wondered what it meant that over the last week she had grown so wise in everything Bellamy that it was nearly as easy as breathing to _get_ him.

“Where are you going?”

Clarke realized too late that Bellamy’s position in the doorway left her locked inside, stepping forward with her duffel only to be left a little too close to him and incapable of running away. “Figured I had my shot at the guest room and someone else might want to stay here. Plus I really wanted to see Wells so I’m going to crash with him.”

“Are you running away?”

“From what?” Clarke scoffed, her eyebrows raising in challenge. “What could I possibly be running away from?”

“Your past, the truth… me.” Bellamy’s face became softer, lighter, and if Clarke wasn’t entirely pissed off with him she would have found it hard not to pull him into her arms, to reach out to hold on to his face. But she _was_ mad at him and she didn’t want to touch him, look at him, because she had given him the ability to hurt her and he had done just that. Clarke was tired of the people around her breaking her into submission, grabbing her heart into their hands and then letting it fall to the ground.

“ _You_? Why would I be running from you?” Her voice was harsher than the situation called for and a part of herself, the part in the back of her head, felt bad about it, but she reminded herself that caring was weakness and tried to leave it at that.

“I don’t know, maybe because we spooned last night and now you’re scared we’re getting too close? Clarke I’m not going to hurt you.”

A jaded laugh ripped itself right out of her mouth and she felt a small sense of victory as Bellamy flinched backward, taken aback at the sound. Good, he should feel bad, because here he was spouting out lies that there were no way he could hold himself to. Not going to hurt her? He already had.

“When I was little I used to read all the time, always had my head in a book, and when things were funny I would laugh out loud. I would laugh… so _hard_ , and when it was sad? Man would I cry. My dad always told me I cared too deeply about things. When I care about something, some _one_ , as much as I try to deny it or stop it it’s like they become a part of me, it’s like they burrow themselves straight into my chest and no good ever comes from it. I can’t care so much anymore, Bellamy, I’m done.”

“Clarke-” Bellamy’s words stopped off into nothing, his mouth hanging open like he was trying to push words out but they just weren’t sticking. “What did I do?”

“Nothing everyone else hasn’t already done before you.” Clarke took in a deep breath, shaking slightly and then her face was molded back into a perfect smile, the evidence of whatever argument they had just had disappearing like footsteps in a sandstorm.

“Tell me how to fix this, what happened, I don-”

“Bellamy.” Clarke laughed slightly, innocent and the littlest bit detached. “There isn’t a single thing to fix.”

Bellamy’s arms fell from his chest, his face falling, but Clarke didn’t let herself get too upset about it. She walked right past him and into Wells’ room, shutting the door behind herself. She leaned against it, stifling a sob and hitting her leg hard to shake herself out of it. She would not cry, she would not give him the pleasure.

Pushing herself up, taking a deep breath, she wiped the nonexistent tears from her face and pushed her shoulders back. The sound of something hitting the ground hard shook her out of her thoughts and she watched as the bathroom door in the room jangled. It flung open and then there was Wells, smiling at her softly. There was no way he could have known it was the exact sight she needed to see, but there it was anyway, looking perfect.

“You bunking with me?”

“Is that ok?”

“Of course it is.” Wells walked over, grabbing the bag that was clasped all too tightly in her hands and setting it on the chair in his room. “But you need to tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong.”

“That’s the smile that means something is wrong. You can lie to everyone else Clarke Griffin, but don’t even try to start it with me.”

Wells reached out, touching her upper arm lightly and with that singular touch it felt like she was crumbling away. Her body suddenly felt weak, her legs like jelly beneath her and just when she thought she might collapse, Wells was there, just like he always was.

“Woah woah woah, Clarke. What’s going on?”

Clarke opened her mouth, ready to speak, but her throat felt tight, like she couldn’t pull breaths in. A shaky hand reached upward, grasping her neck, but her breaths came in short and sharp. “Wells, I can’t- I can’t _breath_.”

Wells lifted her up in one fluent motion, setting her down on the bed and kneeling next to her. “Clarke, what’s happening? I need to go get someone, I nee-”

“No!” she exclaimed, her eyes widening. Her whole body suddenly felt on fire, like the air in the room was stifling, but she couldn’t seem to pinpoint when it had come on. “No one, just, just help me.”

“I think you’re having a panic attack,” Wells stated, realization washing over his features. Now that he had identified exactly what it was he thought was happening, it made his whole demeanor turn calm. He moved behind Clarke, sitting her up and rubbing his hand over her back. He breathed close to her ear, telling her to try to breath with him, and his other hand went and grabbed at her fingers. She squeezed as tightly as she could manage on to his hand, just to ensure that something was there, something was real.

Clarke wasn’t sure how long they sat there like that, at least ten minutes, probably more, but by the time her breathing finally felt normal again she could practically cry with relief. “How did you know what to do?”

“My mom used to get them before…” his voice trailed off naturally, the way it always did after he said the word before. Wells never really specified a moment, he never said ‘before she left’ or ‘before it was just the two of us’, but she almost liked it better. _Before_ , just before. Before he’d been motherless, a time that felt so long ago, like another person and another lifetime.

“I forgot that.” Clarke smiled at him, tiny but true. Wells had been taking care of people for as long as Clarke could remember, she’d just never realized how truly beautiful that was before. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. You need to talk about it, though, whatever it is that's making you so overwhelmed.”

Clarke leaned back into Wells, resting her head on his shoulder and sighing, the breath slithering out from between her lips. “You remember The Giving Tree?”

“You only made your dad read it to us about a million times, of course I remember it.”

“The tree gives everything it has until there’s nothing left for the sake of those he loves, he just keeps _giving_.” Clarke shook her head, trying to shake the thought away but it stuck firmly to her. “I guess I’m just feeling a lot like that tree right now. I feel like I have nothing left.”

“You want to sleep it off?”

“It’s only four in the afternoon right now,” Clarke reasoned. Wells pulled back the blanket, motioning with his eyes for her to scoot underneath. “All I do anymore is sleep.”

“Everyone is laying around the pool right now, you aren’t missing out on a thing. Let’s create your game plan.”

“My game plan is to keep my head down and get through it all.” Clarke pushed herself up onto her hand, watching as Wells’ face scrunched up into a look of displeasure.

“But when does it stop?”

“What?”

“Ok, you put your head down, you don’t talk to people, but what are you getting _through_? There’s always going to be another trouble after the trouble you get through -- it never ends. Not to mention, I’m sorry to break this to you, but you aren’t ever going to get over the pain of losing your Dad. It gets easier in some ways, you move on, but it always _hurts_.”

“I can’t do it, Wells.”

“What? Life? I’m fairly sure you can. This is what is going to happen. You get tonight, you get tonight to be pissed and mad and sad and sleep, but when the sun comes up? You’re going to get back into the saddle like the Clarke Griffin I know and adore and kick back. You think you can manage that?”

“With you right there by me? Of course.”

“Good.” Wells nodded, leaning forward and kissing her on the forehead. “I’m going to go tell everyone you have a headache and are heading in early and then I’ll come back. You think you can manage a few minutes without me?”

“Drama Queen.” Wells laughed at her utterance, slipping out of the room and disappearing. He was barely gone several seconds before he was back, sliding in besides her. Clarke rested her head on his chest, sighing deeply at the familiarity of it. In another life maybe she could have loved Wells, could have embraced a life with the best friends who turned lovers trope, but she didn’t get a flip in her stomach when he looked at her, didn’t feel heat when he stared at her… not the way she did when Bellamy did it.

She pushed away thoughts of Bellamy, listening instead to the slight humming underneath his breath. “I miss you when you’re not around.”

“I miss you, too.”

Clarke smiled, some of the pressure that had been on her chest rising up and away, and felt her eyes droop, the comfort of oblivion wrapping itself tightly around her.

* * *

When Clarke woke up Wells was sound asleep next to her and, if the lack of light through the window was anything to go by, it was barely morning. She pushed herself out of the bed, grabbing a change of clothes and heading to his bathroom. She slipped into her favorite pair of shorts, throwing on an old shirt of her dad's she had thrown in her bag at the last minute before leaving (just in case she needed it, which now seemed like a rather smart idea). Her hair practically orbited around her head and she dove in, braiding it back into a plait down her back to get it out of her face.

The clock on the hallway wall told her it was barely past five, the creakiness and openness of the house confirming it. She could see Finn laying on a couch in the small side room, Lincoln and Octavia wrapped up in each other on the pull out bed, and she tried her best to keep it quiet. Raven was no where in sight and she assumed she must have taken her spot in the bed next to Bellamy. She tried her hardest to ignore the fire of jealousy that ate at her with the thought.

Clarke put the coffee pot on, taking a cup and watching the sunrise. The sun began to flicker up, setting a warmth over her, and she grabbed her empty cup and made her way back to the kitchen. She filed through the refrigerator, pulling out the eggs and bacon as she saw them. Knowing the Jahas she was sure there was pancake mix somewhere nearby, and as she stepped into the pantry she was happy to find her suspicions confirmed.

“What did you do to that poor boy?”

Clarke looked up from the bowl she was whisking, eyeing Raven curiously. She stepped toward the griddle, dolloping spoonfuls of the batter on before setting the bowl down and taking a step forward. “What do you mean?”

“He’s heartbroken.”

“He broke my heart first.”

“You need to talk to him.”

“Raven,” Clarke replied, her voice rich and full as she spoke, “I promise I plan on it. Right now, however, I could really use my sous chef. How do you feel about frying up some bacon?”

Raven waited a beat, eyes running over Clarke before she gave a solid nod and stepped forward. “I think I’d feel pretty good about it.”

“You two were up and you didn’t wake me?” Octavia screeched, hair piled precariously on her head and glasses perched on her nose.

“Girls breakfast!” Raven cheered, the three of them laughing together harmoniously. Clarke realized how stupid she was for thinking for even a second she could live without those besides her, that she could push away the sentimental parts of herself. Life was loss, and suddenly she remembered Lexa’s words from the car ride with a startling clarity.

_We live for those who can’t._

Never in a million years would her father want her to push herself away, to close herself off because it was easier. Jake Griffin was not a man to do what was easy just for the sake of keeping his hands clean, never had been, and Clarke had been fooling herself to think she could be that person either. Maybe life was loss, but life was also love and friendship and laughing with the windows rolled down and the air flowing around and around, spiraling through them like one perfect, indescribable moment.

Bellamy stood in the doorway when she looked up, a little more wrecked than the last time she had seen him, a little harsher. His edges looked sharp, his eyes hurt and angry, and Clarke suddenly felt horrendous for causing such pain to someone she loved. Even if he didn’t love her back she couldn’t do that to him, couldn’t pull him through the dirt. He deserved better.

“Good morning Octavia, Raven.” His eyes moved right past her, ignoring her entirely. Clarke heard Octavia cough awkwardly, Raven whistle underneath her breath, and Clarke had to remind herself that she had brought this on herself. It didn't make it hurt any less.

“We need to talk.”

“Oh, now she wants to talk.”

“ _Please_.”

Bellamy’s lips were pursed, his face stony and brooding, but he gave a short nod, motioning with his head outside.

Taking a deep breath, Clarke followed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CLIFFHANGER. I'M SORRY. MORE ANGST. ALSO SORRY. 
> 
> ...but only a little bit.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Clarke finally have their talk.

When Clarke was ten she broke her arm falling off of her bike. She had been going down a hill too fast, laughing over her shoulder at something Octavia had said, and when she reached the bottom of the incline it had become too late to turn with the street or stop herself. In an attempt to fix her mistake she slammed her hands down on the brake, but all that had done was leave her skidding with too much momentum, the bike flinging her right off and forward.

As she flew over her handlebars she remembered how oddly freeing it had felt for a singular moment, nothing but air surrounding her, like _flying_ , but as peaceful as it had been the ground was still fast approaching. She had hit the pavement hard, scraping up practically the entirety of her right side and cracking a bone in her right arm.

That feeling of flying, of freedom right before the storm, was kinda what it felt like to look at Bellamy right then, Clarke mused. Across from her, the sun flickering over his skin, the two of them standing there with no words passing almost felt like a freedom, but she knew there was no way to stop the inevitable. Soon he would open his mouth and then it was back to hitting the pavement, sharp and surprising.

“What is it? I don’t have all day to waste on you fucking me over.”

Clarke recoiled, reminding herself that this had all been her doing, but then she remembered how exactly they had gotten here in the first place. This hadn’t  been her fault besides for her listening in on something she really shouldn’t have (she reminded herself that it had been Raven’s fault she had, she was practically _blameless_ ). _He_ should be the one feeling sorry, he had been the one who broke her heart first. The only reason he was mad was because she’d turned the tables right back on him and now he couldn’t seem to handle the heat.

“ _I_ should be the one mad right now.”

“I’m sorry, excuse you?” Bellamy’s eyes widened, his chest increasing in the pace with which he was breathing. He stepped forward, the space shortening between them. There was a foot between them, the air feeling charged and electrified and Clarke was sure if someone lit a match right now the air would light right up.

“You don’t even know why I got mad in the first place!”

“Because you never told me! I’m not a mind reader, Clarke, I don’t always know what’s going on with you when you don’t tell me,” Bellamy replied. Clarke’s fists tightened at her sides, her knuckles whitening.

“Oh, wow, really? Because you’ve always tried to convince me that you could see past everything, because you’re always right! No one knows quite as much as Bellamy, right?”

“I thought you were the one who was going to apologize, but all you’re doing is attacking me and I really don't have to put up with this.”

“Well I’m _mad_ ,” Clarke responded. “You _hurt_ me.”

Bellamy stepped back, his face slackening and his eyebrows crushing together. “Wait- what?”

“I heard you talking with Finn yesterday, ok?”

“So you’re mad that I said I don’t think of you that way?”

“Oh get over yourself, Bellamy, I’m mad because you said I scare you,” Clarke replied, her voice giving away to a sort of patheticness she was hoping to hide. Her voice eased into something more fragile, her eyes brightening with unshed tears. His eyes softened, stepping forward, and Clarke wanted to be able to forgive him simply by the look he gave her, but the words he said still jangled around in her head like shards of glass.

“Clarke-”

“I just thought that you...I don’t know, got me? Understood me?” Clarke spoke. She nervously reached up to her hair, pushing the fallen pieces behind her ear and shifting her gaze around him. “I’m sorry if I overwhelmed you with all of my shit, but you could have just told me to back off.”

Bellamy scoffed. “You didn’t overwhelm me.”

“Then what did I do? I care about you a lot, I’m mature enough to admit it, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

Bellamy laughed and Clarke narrowed her eyes, feeling hurt with how playful his demeanor had turned. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“Clarke-”

“It’s fine. I’ve forgiven you for the words and you’ve forgiven me for being mad and it’s fine. We’re fine.”

Clarke turned away from him, a stone settling harshly in her gut, but before she could make it back to the door to escape within, his hand had grabbed at her arm. “Clarke, anyone who says they’re fine never means it.”

“Well I do.”

“No you don’t.” Bellamy sighed. “You want the truth?”

“The truth would be nice.” Clarke watched as he shuffled on his feet, his hand running through his hair and leaving it in a million different directions. If the air didn’t feel heavy with emotion, with a dangerous vulnerability, she might have laughed at how he looked. His hand came up to the back of his neck, Bellamy looking up at her nervously before straightening himself back up, releasing a soft breath.

“You do scare me-”

If her feet weren’t glued to the ground she would have tried another escape, but she couldn’t seem to shift out of Bellamy’s gaze. “Well thank you for clarifying,” she cut him off, her words sarcastic and bitter.

“Let me finish,” he pleaded. Clarke crossed her arms, her lips pursing, but she kept her mouth shut. “You do scare me. You scare me because when I’m around you I forget about all of the bad stuff, about all of these things I should care about -- they just disappear and I stop thinking about all of it. You’re about the realest thing I’ve ever experienced Clarke, shining and smart and beautiful, and the thought of having you and then losing you is about as terrifying as it gets. I lied to Finn about not caring about you like that, because I do and that scares me most of all.”

Bellamy halted his words, looking anxiously over at her as she stood in silence. Her mind was reeling, incapable of comprehending all that he had just said. Out of all of the possibilities of this situation, Bellamy saying anything near _that_ had never once been one of them. Good things like that didn’t happen to her, not lately anyway, and she didn’t know quite how to respond to it.

“So the other day, when you said there was only one other thing that ever came close to scaring you so much…”

“It was you,” Bellamy admitted. “I’ve never cared about anyone the way I care about you.”

Clarke blanched, the words spiraling through the air and floating right through her. He cared about her, _cared_ about her, and Clarke knew she had people who loved her and needed her, but Bellamy needing her in that way felt like some kind of miracle. Like the two of them connecting at one moment was something so miraculous she could barely believe it was true.

“So…” he trailed off, a smirk falling back onto his lips, “there’s that.”

“Ok, well thank you for that. I guess I’ll see you later,” Clarke replied, shrugging nonchalantly. She turned around, incapable of keeping a devilish sort of smile from spreading wide across her face.

“Are you serious?”

Clarke turned around, smirking in reply to his amused expression. “Not even in the slightest.”

Clarke stalked toward him, smiling up wide as she stood chest to chest with him. She grabbed on to his face, her hands cupping his cheeks and pulling him in to her. His face turned to one of surprise as she reached up and brought their lips together, but it didn’t take long for it to wear off. His hands found their way naturally to her hips, pulling her flush against him, and he matched every movement of her lips with his own, smiling into her.

“We probably should have done that right away, stopped all the useless bickering and fighting.”

“Oh, where would be the fun in that?” Clarke whispered back. Bellamy’s hand reached up, caressing her cheek as he looked down at her. The way he watched her had Clarke trying to catch her breath, trying to resist the face-splitting grin that took control of her. The smile he gave back was twice as beautiful, and Clarke couldn’t stop herself from reaching up and giving him another solid kiss.

This one was broken up by some sort of banging behind them, and Clarke and Bellamy split apart and flashed toward the window. Raven and Octavia were squealing behind the glass, Raven sending a thumbs up and Octavia jumping obnoxiously behind her. Hiding her face in his chest, Clarke laughed along, enjoying the feeling of Bellamy’s nearness.

“A bunch of peeping Tom’s,” Clarke yelled, slapping the glass as she pulled back from Bellamy. Her words were harsh but filled with laughter, and she felt lighter as Bellamy laughed behind her.

“Ok, Rocky, let’s go finish that breakfast.”

Clarke let him lead her back into the house, moving instantly back to the griddle. Raven and Octavia joined, choosing to say nothing but she could feel them smiling widely next to her, the three of them working together like a choreographed dance they’d practiced a million times before. Bellamy sat at the counter, watching her, and she could feel his eyes follow. He reached over to steal a piece of bacon and she slapped his hand away, eyeing him purposefully.

“One piece? Not even one?”

“We wait for everyone.”

“Nice to see no special treatment is given to your _booyyyyfriend_ ,” Octavia joked. Clarke stuck out her tongue at her, flipping a few pancakes and relishing in the shit-eating grin Bellamy was shooting their way. Clarke gave him a wink, handing him a single piece of bacon when the other two weren't looking.

Ten minutes later the breakfast was ready to be eaten, and despite the still early nature of the day, the aroma of bacon must have woken up the rest of the boys. They scattered in, sleepy and slow but ultimately motivated by the food laid out in front of them. Carrying platters over to the kitchen table, they all spread themselves out around it. It felt like a family, it _was_ a family -- _her_ family, and as all of them spread out over the length of the table Clarke felt indescribable bliss.

For once everything felt right and nothing was going wrong, and the skeptical part of Clarke wanted to question it, but the rest of her let it rest. Right now she was happy, and for once she decided she deserved it.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're Welcome :) I couldn't let you wait too long after that last chapter. I know this is a pretty short chapter, but I figured you wouldn't mind. I hope you enjoy!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group has their final hurrah with Lincoln and Wells.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has been delayed, but if you want to know why go read [this fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4102141). It's what I was working on the past week or so. To make it up to you guys, though, the next chapter should be coming out in the next two days :)

As it would turn out, kissing did not necessarily mean Bellamy and Clarke argued any less. It did mean, however, that their arguments ended a lot more amiably (i.e. they made out, intensely, loudly, and though they tried to be discreet about it, they were so _not_ discreet about it).

It was like the two of them were trying to make up for lost time, trying to apologize with kisses for every argument and dispute the two of them had participated in for as long as they had known each other. Clarke certainly wasn’t going to complain about it, though; Bellamy Blake was definitely the most intoxicating thing she had ever experienced, and if he wanted to grab her unexpectedly and pull her into the linens closet, she was totally cool with it. _Totally_.

“This isn’t healthy,” Clarke breathed out, her lips quickly recaptured by Bellamy’s. “We’re going to end up with a ton of pent up anger if we keep doing this.”

“I don’t know,” he replied, a slow smirking on his lips, “I never feel mad at you after this.”

Bellamy’s hand reached up and pushed hair away behind her ear, cupping her cheek after he had completed the action. It made Clarke’s breath stutter, and she met his gaze, his eyes grabbing her in the magnetic pull he seemed to have over her. He was really unfairly beautiful, Clarke thought; she wanted to memorize the pattern of his freckles, the exact hue of his eyes, the angle of his long eyelashes, and paint them a million times over so she would never forget them.

“Tell me something,” Clarke asked delicately.

“What do you mean? What do you want me to say?”

“Anything,” she answered. “I want to know more about you, also preferably something that won't make me feel so cheap.”

“You aren’t cheap,” he released with a chuckle, shaking his head. Bellamy leaned back slightly, a crinkle forming in his brow as he contemplated the words. “Something about me, huh?” Bellamy paused for a little longer, tapping a finger over his cheek. “When Octavia was entering middle school my mom was working a lot. She was always at the hospital; it was harder to feed and clothe us after my dad was gone, well, you remember, but because she was never around she wasn’t able to help Octavia learn certain things.

“Octavia always got jealous of all the other girls’ braids, all of their nice hair. She was too proud to admit it, of course, but I felt so bad for her and I never wanted her to feel like she wasn’t living a normal childhood, so I decided to just learn how to do it. To this day I am an excellent braider: dutch, french, normal -- I can do them all.”

“You’re kidding?” Clarke exclaimed, eyes widening. Honestly, the thought of a young Bellamy probably watching youtube videos just to make his little sister happy, of him getting up early so he would have time to help her with her hair before school, was one of the most adorable and endearing things she had ever heard. “I remembered always being jealous of her braids, they were so intricate.”

“Eventually she learned how to do it all on her own and she got scarily good at it, but for a while it was all me.”

“You have to demonstrate,” Clarke declared, moving toward the bed in the room and plopping down. As Clarke unraveled her hair, Bellamy groaned, but it didn’t stop him from moving over to the bed and kneeling behind her.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Surprise me,” Clarke spoke. Bellamy’s hands delved into her hair, pulling strands of it delicately and twirling them together. There was a gentleness to the way his hands worked, something she sometimes forgot was a part of him when she was so used to the arguments and his rough exterior, but there was a kindness in Bellamy that was actually quite extraordinary if you ever were lucky enough to truly see how endless it could be.

“Ok, please stop making out for like two seconds and-” Octavia halted in her path, her hand still hanging on the doorknob as her eyes widened at the scene in front of her. “That was _so_ not what I thought I was going to see when I came in here.”

“Do you have a hairband?” Bellamy asked, completely unfazed. “One of the small invisible ones would be preferable.”

“You are such a _nerd_ ,” Clarke stated. Octavia walked slowly over, pulling one from her pocket and handing it over, the whole time her face frozen in shock.

“You’re the one who asked me to braid your hair,” Bellamy replied. Clarke shrugged in reply and turned her eyes to Octavia’s face, rather enjoying the dumbstruck expression sitting across her features.

“We’re having a family discussion,” she began, finally finding her voice, “and we’d like the two of you to join in if you’re done doing whatever the hell this is.”

Octavia gave a solid nod, like she was proud of herself for getting the words out, before exiting the room and leaving the door hanging open. Clarke felt the laughter bubbling from her chest, releasing in a burst of sound that spread to Bellamy, the two of them chuckling together in the empty space.

“We should go,” Clarke declared, pushing herself up from the bed. Bellamy reached out as she stood, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her back to him. A yelp escaped her mouth, but she didn’t pull away as he held her close. She twisted toward him, smelling in his earthiness and something else, something distinctly Bellamy. A part of her wanted to stay right there and forget the whole meeting, but even as addicting as Bellamy was, she couldn’t ignore the call of her friends. “You know people are going to start to hate us.”

“Fine.” He sighed, unwinding his arms from around her. “Family meeting it is.”

Clarke turned around, grabbing onto Bellamy’s arms and yanking him upward. The two of them traveled to the living room with quick steps, the silence between them comfortable. She loved that about being around Bellamy, that there wasn’t always a need to fill the silence with words.

“Finally the lovebirds emerge!” Raven exclaimed. Clarke rolled her eyes, slipping in between her and Lincoln on the couch. Bellamy sat on the arm of the chair Octavia was coiled up in, and Clarke took a second to find Finn and Wells, the two of them sprawled out on the ground right by the coffee table.

“So, what are we meeting about today?” Clarke said, flashing her eyes around the haphazard circle her friends had unknowingly created.

“We’ve been talking, and it’s about time we keep going. We’ve been here for four days,” Finn explained.

“Wells,” Clarke stated, pouting at him. It felt like a cruel joke in a way, to be able to spend time with him for the first time in forever and then have to leave after what felt like such a short time. It would probably never be enough time, though, she realized. “Can’t you just come with us?”

“‘Fraid not,” he replied. “All good things must come to an end.”

“Oh no,” Clarke stated. “That means we have to drop Lincoln off, right?”

“I’ve already delayed heading to Phoenix for too long,” he explained. His eyes shifted to Octavia, sending a sad look her way. She diverted her gaze, clearly upset, and Clarke felt her heart clench at their sudden romance having to crash to such a quick end.

“We thought we should do something fun tonight as a send off,” Raven spoke. “Our last hurrah.”

“And what exactly does this last hurrah involve?” Bellamy asked.

“That’s what the family meeting pertains to,” Finn answered.

“Karaoke!” Octavia exclaimed, a sudden excitement rippling through her. Bellamy groaned next to her, rolling his eyes, but she didn’t seem to mind, smiling sickeningly sweet over at him.

“Why do you like karaoke so much? I honestly don’t understand it.” Raven raised a brow in question, genuine curiosity motivating her words.

“Our mom was always getting headaches, never let her sing around the house,” Bellamy answered for her. Octavia shot him a side eye, but she shrugged in response. It was mostly true.

“I’m not saying no to the karaoke,” Clarke began, speaking tentatively as to not burst Octavia’s bubble, “but what if we did this. Ok, so we have to drop Lincoln off in Phoenix anyways, so we all drive out there and check out his shop. I’m sure we can find a karaoke bar out there.”

“Clarke, are you trying to say that you maybe  want to get a tattoo?” Octavia tried, a smile stretching slowly across her features. “That’s all I need to hear. I’m in.”

“You are _not_ getting a tattoo,” Bellamy blurted, voice harsh as he eyed Octavia. She narrowed her gaze in response, crossing her arms.

“Good thing I’m 18 and you don’t control my body,” she snapped back, a self-satisfying smile on her face. Bellamy rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything else, letting the argument fall.

“We’re really doing this? Tattoos?” Raven remarked excitedly.

“We’re only young once,” Clarke spoke, shrugging slightly.

“You can all stay over at my new apartment for the night if you want. You’ll have to deal with Anya, but if someone buys her rum she should be nice enough,” Lincoln offered.

“Well, that’s settled then!” Clarke exclaimed. “We leave in an hour.”

“Princess-” Bellamy began, but she shot him an award-winning smile and he snapped his mouth shut. “Fine.”

“Fine,” she agreed. The group dismantled in a all different directions, gathering their things with haste and yells of glee, and Clarke felt a rumble of anticipation, of something yet to come, fluttering in her stomach.

* * *

They stopped first at Lincoln’s new apartment, which just so happened to be right above the tattoo parlor. Anya was there, eyes narrowed and lips pursed, never really letting any of them see anything besides a general displeasure at them being there. They dropped their bags off, giving her a bottle of rum they’d purchased just for her; only then did she light up the littlest bit, giving them a thankful nod in return (Lincoln informed them that that meant she was actually pretty happy, but it seemed fairly hard to believe).

The karaoke place, as it would turn out, was a lot more populated than they had expected. Octavia shot a group of guys a wide smile and they gave over a table, the group of them huddling around it, packing themselves tightly into the space.

“I’m going to go put us down for the usual,” Octavia stated, rushing away before Raven or Clarke could argue.

“She always does this.” Raven released a sigh, taking a sip from Bellamy’s drink. He grabbed the drink back from her, making a comically disgusted look at her actions. “Buy me a drink and I won’t drink yours.”

“Stop being underage and I’ll buy you a drink,” he replied. “I’ve already supplied enough minors with alcohol on this trip, and it hasn’t done anyone any good.”

“I’m sorry, last time we got drunk I’m fairly sure _I_ supplied the alcohol. Do you remember all those free drinks? You owe me, Blake.”

“You’re manipulative, you know that, right?”

“Just buy a pitcher of beer and none of us will complain any longer.” Raven waved him away, widening her eyes as he waited a beat too long. Bellamy left in a huff, Clarke and Raven laughing at his actions.

“So, what tattoo are you going to get, Griffin?” Raven questioned conversationally, flipping her hair over her shoulder. She grumbled at it, grabbing it up in her hands and pulling it into a ponytail.

“I don’t know. Any recommendations, Lincoln?”

Lincoln thought over the words, tapping his fingers against the table top before responding. “It has to be what you want to do. Otherwise there’s no point.”

“Is anyone else going to get one?” she asked.

“My dad would murder me,” Wells replied with a scoff. “So, no.”

“I want to get a bird,” Raven stated. “No surprise there, though.”

Clarke knew she wanted _something_ , but it was hard to decide what exactly it was she wanted on her body. She wanted it to mean something, to be something that spoke to her, but it felt like too much pressure to get it just right. Of all the things she could put on her body, none of them felt personal enough, and the secret that she hadn’t spoken aloud, that she wanted to get something to honor her dad, made the pressure that much heavier.

“We’re up next, come on guys,” Octavia squealed, grabbing the two girls hands and pulling them away from the table.

Even after all the times Octavia had forced her into karaoke, Clarke would still never quite get used to the feeling of being up on stage for everyone to see. The feeling of so many eyes on you, of being on display, was just too nerve-wracking. Raven walked on to stage first, setting a precedent of confidence Clarke attempted to meet, but as soon as the music started, most of her nerves seemed to melt right away.

Clarke wasn’t surprised to hear Bonnie Tyler’s “I Need a Hero” resonate from the speakers, enveloping them in sound. Even before Raven the song had been a staple in Octavia and Clarke’s lives, providing a soundtrack for some of their craziest moments. It was nice, though, the three of them singing their hearts out and dancing on stage and all to the sound of an audience more than willing to hear. It was a moment that felt perfect, like something that could be wrapped in a pretty bow and saved for later.

Despite the overpopulated bar, Octavia managed to get her name on the list five more times. She pulled up the others with her, singing with Finn, then Wells, then Lincoln (Clarke was surprised to find out he was much more of a showman than he lead on), and Bellamy, before rounding the night out with a Carrie Underwood song that was sung so beautifully the crowd actually dulled to a low roar, everyone listening with anticipation.

They returned to Lincoln’s shop after that, Lincoln calling down Anya to help with the tattoos. The shop wasn’t officially open yet, making them the first customers, but Clarke could see what the place was going to be. It had a calm sort of energy, no pressure, but a promise of excellent work. The kind of work that was going to be exactly what you wanted and even more, an extra sort of special art that proved even more beautiful than you could have possibly expected.

“Have you decided what you want?” Anya asked, eyeing Clarke with an intensity she had already associated with her.

Lincoln was in the back tattooing an arrow down the length of Octavia’s spine, Bellamy and Raven sitting in, leaving only Wells and Finn in the main area with her. They were busy looking over pictures of Lincoln and Anya’s past work, completely oblivious to the other girls in the room. Clarke couldn’t think of a reason why she could say no, so she nodded slowly, following Anya into a room in the back.

“What do you want? If you have a picture it makes it a lot easier,” she spoke, her words gruff. She prepared the equipment around her, and Clarke felt oddly in her element as she saw Anya pull out the different pigments.

“I want two, actually. The first is a moon and stars on my shoulder blade,” Clarke replied, leaving the picture on her phone open and sitting on the table next to the equipment.

“Take your shirt off. Lay down,” she ordered. Clarke almost appreciated the bluntness, finding it calming to be told exactly what to do. “If anything ever hurts too much, just let me know and I’ll stop.”

Silence seemed to echo around them as she worked, the only sound being the gun as it worked. Clarke felt a slight pain in her shoulder, like a needle pricking skin, but it wasn’t too painful. In a way she enjoyed the dull ache, like a reminder that she was alive, that she was living. After feeling like running through sludge after her dad died, like a person made up of more memory than reality, it was nice to be brought startlingly to the present. It was the same kind of feeling Bellamy gave her… so very _alive_.

“How long have you known Lincoln?” Clarke questioned conversationally. Anya grunted above her, and Clarke was starting to wonder if that was supposed to be an answer of some kind before she finally spoke up.

“Forever. We were in the same elementary school together around Washington D.C.. Lincoln’s practically a pacifist, he’s never liked the fight, and when kids used to try to pick on him for it, I was always there. He usually stopped me before I got in trouble, guess it’s why we get along so well together. He didn’t like to fight and I always liked it too much.”

“How’d you end up in Phoenix?”

“That’s a much longer story, I’m afraid.” Anya scoffed. Clarke winced a little as Anya shaded in something on her shoulder, a beat of silence following. “That girl he’s hung up on… is she worth it?”

“She’s the bravest girl I’ve ever met. Strong as hell, fiercely loyal, and her capability to love, man is it incredible. Lincoln could do a hell of a lot worse and, to be frank, not all that much better. Plus, you haven’t seen the two of them together much, but they get each other in this way that’s actually kinda extraordinary.”

“I guess I should have assumed that if Lincoln liked her she was already worthy,” Anya spoke, her voice the softest Clarke had heard it yet. “He barely cares about anyone. He has the biggest heart I’ve ever seen, but he doesn’t let just anyone into it.”

The words shocked Clarke some. Lincoln seemed shy, but never closed off to her. He was caring, though, she definitely agreed, and maybe it said something about how much he got along with Octavia that he was so willing to let them all in.

“Ok, I think this one is done, you want to take a look at it?” Anya held out a mirror to Clarke, positioning her in front of a wall with a floor length mirror.

Clarke turned her body, positioning the mirrors perfectly so she could see the artwork on her shoulder. It was gorgeous. Blues were spreading over her shoulder in a watercolor sort of way, molding together and spreading over her skin, stars peeking out from the blues and a bright moon shining intensely in the corner. It was perfect, and the images nearly brought tears to her eyes.

“Is that good?”

Clarke smiled, wiping away the sole tear that had slipped from her eyes.

“ _Perfect_.”

* * *

“Let me see! Let me see!” Octavia exclaimed as Clarke walked out. She pulled her shirt to the side cautiously, showing them the artwork on her shoulder. After they had all seen it Anya came over with a bandage, safely covering it for her.

“So, how did you end up finally deciding?” Lincoln asked, leaning up against the glass counter.

Clarke felt everyone’s eyes on her, but she didn’t feel pressure. Instead she just felt reminded of how lucky she was to have a group of people she felt so comfortable with, so capable of being herself. They all accepted her for just who she was, and the thought spread a warmth through her and brought a small smile to her lips. 

“It’s for my dad,” she explained. “He loved the sky, used to tell me that stars were a window to the past. ‘They’ve been telling stories for as long as we have lived and will continue to tell them after us’, he would always say. I wanted to feel like I had a part of him with me.”

“It’s beautiful, Clarke.” Octavia beamed over at her, and Clarke couldn’t help the wide smile that instantly fell on her own lips. It was impossible not to reciprocate Octavia's smiles, her exuberant enthusiasm and love.

“Thank you,” Clarke responded. “Now let’s go get some sleep.”

The group meandered up the stairs, one big happy family, and Clarke felt herself nearly float away from the exhilaration that ran through her. Bellamy came to her side, swinging an arm over her shoulder, and she leaned into him, into his warmth.

Someday, she would tell them all about the crown tattooed onto her hip, but for tonight, that was a secret reserved just for her.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After leaving Phoenix, the gang finally arrives at the Grand Canyon.

“I want to stay.”

Clarke snapped her eyes to Bellamy, noticing the ways his body stilled, his hands clenching at his sides. His face morphed into something hard to read, but the edges were sharp and his eyes narrowed. “You’re not staying in Arizona.”

“Not forever, just for now. You’ll be turning around in a few days and you can pick me up on your way back. We’ll be away from each other for a week, maybe two,” Octavia reasoned.

Clarke figured she could have at least found a better time to have this conversation than ten minutes before they were leaving, but she understood the appeal of waiting until the last minute. Bellamy clearly was not going to take the news well, fighting every chance he had until they got into the car. The rest of them, Raven, Finn, Wells, and Lincoln, sat and watched much the same way Clarke was. It was kinda like sitting at a movie theater, except a lot more personal and not nearly as much fun. On second thought, maybe there would have _never_ been a better time.

“Octavia-”

“I need to,” she stated, her voice thick with emotion. “I already asked Mr. Jaha and he said it was fine if I stayed with them for a while.” Octavia turned toward Clarke, eyes pleading for her to understand. “I don’t want to leave you, but this whole thing is like _your_ quest and, for some reason, I really feel like _I_ need to stay here. I think _mine_ is here.”

Looking to her left, Clarke noticed Bellamy’s face still contorted with ferocity, but his muscles melted, his hands falling open. She understood how hard it could be to let someone go, even for such a short amount of time. When someone meant so much to you, when you were so used to having them by your side, it was hard to give them up. The emptiness hurt like a bitch, but Bellamy would be ok. Clarke hoped that maybe she could dull the ache, make him hurt a little less the same way he had done for her.

“Fine,” Bellamy blurted, stepping forward, “but you check in every day! And you make sure to be respectful to the Jahas and under no circumstances are you having unsupervised sleepovers here with Lincoln. Is that understood?”

“Ay, ay, captain,” she replied, saluting him in response. Her mouth stretched into an impossibly wide smile, and as soon as she had uttered the words it was like she couldn’t keep her body still, rushing forward and wrapping her arms around him. Bellamy reached his hand up and held onto the back of her head, releasing a shaky breath all the while.

“Be safe,” he spoke softly, eyes begging.

“Of course.”

“We’re burning daylight!” Raven exclaimed, breaking the moment.

Bellamy looked gratefully over at her, clearing his throat and stepping back. Nothing made Bellamy quite as emotional as Octavia, and it was clear he was happy to not reveal any more of his cards in front of the whole audience. As he moved to grab all of their bags and throw them in the back, the rest of them stepped forward to hug Octavia, Lincoln, and Wells goodbye.

“It never feels like long enough,” Clarke released as she tightened her hold on Wells. “I miss you already.”

“That’s because I’m amazing,” he replied, smiling widely at her. Clarke rolled her eyes, but she could already feel them moisten at the thought of having to leave so soon. Being with Wells was like a life raft in the middle of the ocean, but she supposed even life rafts only kept you afloat for so long. The problems still existed, even if it made you feel like they had disappeared. Maybe it was about time she started facing them head on.

“You’ll watch out for her, right?” she questioned. Wells nodded fiercely, his eyes describing to her just how much he cared.

“You watch out for yourself.”

Clarke wanted to tell him that she was trying, that she wanted to but was struggling to find out exactly how to do it. It was much easier said than done. Caring too much just left you in pain, caring not at all just left everyone else around you in pain, and the middle ground, something she hadn’t found quite yet, felt more like a myth than something actually attainable.

Octavia turned away from Finn, eyes falling on Clarke instantly, and as they did she reached out, yanking her into a hug. “Clarke!” she squealed. “Are you sure you’ll be ok? I don’t want to leave you if you really need me; I know this was supposed to be about you and I’m-”

“Stop it, this is good,” Clarke cut her off. “I can’t expect you to give up things you need for my problems all the time. Just… make sure you use your time wisely,” she spoke, motioning with her head toward Lincoln, “all right?”

“I think I can manage that,” Octavia responded. “Can you just watch out for Bellamy, though? Make sure he’s alright, please.”

Clarke turned her gaze toward him, eyeing him as he threw the last bag in the back and moved toward Wells, giving him a hearty handshake goodbye. It wouldn’t be a problem, she realized, not at all. She watched out for him the same way he watched out for her, the two of them a unit, and it was so _nice_ to know that someone else was looking out for you just as much as you were them. They didn’t just kiss or flirt or fight, they were a _team_ , and Clarke loved to be a part of it.

“I’ll try my best,” she replied.

“That’s all I ask.” Octavia tugged Clarke in for one more hug before pulling back, petting her hair back as she did so.

“Time to go, princess.”

Clarke nodded slowly, nibbling on her bottom lip as she watched the last of the goodbyes, Finn and Raven moving toward the van. She reached her hand out to Bellamy, interlocking their fingers, and spared him a side glance. Even good things had to end, she realized, but that didn’t mean that whatever was coming next was _bad_ , just different. Different was ok, and with Bellamy at her side, Raven and Finn behind her, she was going to be just fine.

“Time to go.”

* * *

It was strange being on the road again after such a long break. After living normally for a few days, it was bizarre to find themselves confined back into a seat for hours on end. There was a sort of simplicity in finding the seat again, Clarke reasoned, and in some ways it felt like a simple transition. The car felt oddly silent, however, without Octavia chattering from the back seat and the calming energy Lincoln naturally provided. Bellamy felt it especially, and Clarke caught his eyes shifting to the rearview mirror too frequently in hopes of finding Octavia in its reflection.

“Fifteen minutes,” he spoke, grinning over at Clarke. “You excited to finally see the Grand Canyon?”

“I’m kinda worried it’s just going to end up being a huge hole in the ground,” she admitted.

“It is,” Raven spoke up, “but you’ll probably like it.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re an artist, Clarke, you find the beauty in everything,” Raven replied. “I, personally, am just a lot more excited about the California shore.”

“That’s because you don’t burn.” Clarke positioned herself forward again, her eyes trained on the scenery around her. “You know, my dad once told me the Grand Canyon was one of the most magnificent things he’d ever seen. That and the Golden Gate Bridge. Both marvels, he said. The first because the capabilities of nature were so astounding, that water could persevere so much to create something so incredible, and the latter because human beings were.”

“Well, I guess we’ll see for ourselves soon enough,” Finn offered. Clarke nodded, biting her thumb as they got closer and closer to the landmark.

A nervous energy rushed through her, running through her veins and sitting heavily atop of her. For days she had been thinking that seeing this would be some kind of life-altering moment, that as soon as she did everything would suddenly make sense. It couldn’t possibly be a cure-all, she knew that now, but there was still a part of her that thought maybe, just maybe, she would feel a little more whole once she saw it. Or maybe at least a little closer to her father.

“We’re here,” Bellamy spoke.

Pushing herself out of the door, Clarke took a deep breath and rushed toward the edge. She’d never seen anything quite like it. She had seen pictures, of course, but it was nothing compared to the sight in front of her. The colors were more vibrant than she expected and the whole thing was massive, the pure size something so astounding she felt a gasp rip from her throat.

Her fingers may have twitched for some pastels, but she most definitely didn’t feel something being answered in front of her. Her gut dropped, feeling lost, but she pushed it away to think about later. Right now, she just wanted to stare for a little longer.

“As good as you thought it would be?” Bellamy questioned.

“No,” Clarke replied, grabbing onto Bellamy’s hand and resting her head on his shoulder, “but it’s pretty fucking good.”

“It’s gorgeous.” Raven sighed next to them, the four of them forming a line as they stared off into the chasm in front of them. A few more minutes followed, a comfortable silence falling between them before Raven shifted, clearing her throat. “How long do we stand here, though? ‘Cause I really have to pee.”

Clarke laughed, her head thrown back, and soon all four of them were. Laughing together, Clarke decided, was her favorite sensation, or at least one of them. It felt so freeing, so beautiful, and to be in the company of people she trusted so fully and loved so unconditionally, made it all that much more beautiful.

“We can go,” she declared.

“You sure? We don’t have to,” Bellamy replied.

“No, let’s go.”

Staring off into the abyss wasn’t going to change anything, no matter how much she wanted it to. It may have been beautiful, but it wasn’t anything more than earth, and it most certainly wasn’t some embodiment of her father. Her dad was in the ground, or at least his body, and he wasn’t coming back. She would never get more time with him, more wisdom, more laughter, and the thought made Clarke feel like she was drowning, gasping at air.

“We should just rent a motel,” Clarke stated. “I want to draw the grand canyon a little in the morning before we leave.”

“Ok,” Bellamy replied, eyes searching over her face for something she was trying so desperately to hide. How did he always know something was wrong? It was disconcerting, and as much as she loved that he could read her, she also hated it.

“Yea,” Clarke claimed, not meeting his gaze. “I’m fine.”

* * *

“You’re not fine,” Bellamy spoke the first minute they were alone. Finn and Raven had left to go pick up pizzas to bring back for dinner, and Clarke was unloading a few odds and ends, trying her best to ignore him.

“I’m fine.”

“You know what’s a lie?” he replied. “Anytime anyone ever says they’re fine.”

Clarke sighed, throwing her clothes back into her duffel. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

The truth was, Clarke actually kinda _did_ want to talk about it, but finding the words just felt too hard. She wasn’t all that sure she knew _how_. Bellamy made her feel more capable of being open, of talking about the things that had burrowed away inside of herself, but it was still _hard_. Especially when she wasn’t all that sure how to start or what it was she was feeling.

“Are you sure about that?”

Clarke flopped back onto the bed, clasping her hands together and laying them over her stomach. The bed shifted next to her, Bellamy pushing toward her, but she didn’t turn her gaze to meet his. She sighed, shifting closer so that their sides touched and she could feel the security of him next to her.

“I’m just…” she began, her voice fatigued, breathy. “I’m just tired of being sad all the time, and I don’t know how not to be. I want it to end, but I feel like I’m trapped in this endless cycle of sadness and not knowing what to do and I want him back, so _bad_ , and my brain knows that I can’t have him, but my heart doesn’t.”

Bellamy brought a hand up to her hair, petting over it and twirling it in his fingers. It was soothing to have him run his fingers through, comforting.

“I’m sorry, Clarke.”

“Me too.”

“It gets better, you know, not for a while, but it does, eventually.”

“I feel so powerless,” she breathed out.

Bellamy chuckled lightly and Clarke moved closer, resting her head on his chest. “I know as a control freak you rarely have to feel that way, but I would just like to say welcome to the rest of the world, princess. Life is always trying to beat the shit out of us.”

“Well, that’s bleak.”

“Not always,” he replied. “We’re lucky; we’re the strong ones. And you know what? Sometimes, life just stops, and it gives you a good day or week or month and everything feels ok for a while. Sometimes, there are people who make the shit stop, too.”

Clarke rolled on to her stomach, looking up at Bellamy and sending a shy smile. “You make me feel better.”

“Yea?” he asked, smiling back.

“Yea.” She nodded, reaching up and giving him a soft kiss.

“You make me feel better, too, princess.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke says goodbye to the Canyon, and Bellamy and her enjoy some alone time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been nominated for Best "Best Friends Brother" Fiction in the Bellarke Fanfiction Awards, so if you want to vote for it [you can vote for it here.](http://bellarkefanfictionawards.tumblr.com/trope:bestfriendsbrother)
> 
> I've also been nominated for [Best Modern AU Author](http://bellarkefanfictionawards.tumblr.com/author:bestmodern) and [Best Canon Author.](http://bellarkefanfictionawards.tumblr.com/author:bestcanon)
> 
> Stay With Me. was also nominated for [Best Angst Oneshot](http://bellarkefanfictionawards.tumblr.com/oneshot:bestangst). SO if you wanted to vote for any of those I would greatly appreciate it and I would be really honored :) Voting goes until the 30th of this month.

When Clarke woke up, the world around her was painfully dark, everything covered in an inky sort of darkness that left only rough shapes and unclear images. A confusion settled into her bones, and she checked the flickering bedside clock to see just what time it was.

_4:30._

Bellamy’s arm laid over her waist, heavy but warm, and his body was closely wrapped behind her own. Having him close was so comfortable she barely wanted to move, but she knew if she fell back asleep and let the sunrise happen while she was unconscious to the world she would never forgive herself.

“Bell,” she whispered, careful not to wake up Finn and Raven in the other bed. She assumed she was fine by the way Finn’s snores were still pulsing through the air. “Wake up.”

He stirred, groaning into his pillow and turning away from her. It was actually all sorts of adorable, and Clarke tried to push away the smile that spread wide across her face. “Come on, you only have to wake up for like ten minutes, I swear.”

“I’m sleeping, princess,” he replied, his voice muffled by the pillow, “like you should be.”

“I need you to drive me to the Grand Canyon,” she stated.

“The keys are right there, drive yourself.”

“You are literally the worst boyfriend in the whole world,” she hissed jokingly, realizing the words that sprang from her mouth moments too late.

Bellamy flipped onto his back, a smirk already placed firmly on his lips. “Boyfriend, huh?”

“Oh my god, stop being a total asshole and take me to the goddamn Canyon,” she responded. Clarke rolled her eyes at him before moving to the edge of the bed, finding her jeans and slipping herself into them. Her hair felt unruly on the top of her head, and she pushed it into a bun to get it out of her way, turning back around to see Bellamy blearily searching for his own pants.

“Calm down, I’m coming,” he called in a hushed tone, not even bothering to look up. Clarke chuckled softly to herself, laughing as he stumbled from the dark and his tiredness. He walked over, his footsteps light, and grabbed onto her waist from behind, pushing her toward the door. “Bad boyfriend, my ass.”

“I take it back!” she claimed as she walked to the passenger side, buckling up. Bellamy smiled over at her. He was really quite unfairly beautiful in the morning, she decided. He was all tousled hair and dopey smiles, and if Clarke wasn’t already half in love with him, she was sure seeing him like this might just convince her to be.

“So,” Bellamy started as he twisted the keys in the ignition, “why couldn’t you drive yourself over?”

“I’ll get too into my art and forget what time it is,” she replied. “This way you can drive back, sleep for another few hours, and when you guys are all set to go you can come get me. Perfect plan.”

“Except for the part where I get up at the crack of dawn.” Bellamy turned toward her, smiling softly. “You holding up ok?”

“Believe it or not, yes,” Clarke answered, “I am.”

Bellamy nodded once, his eyes trained on the road in front of him. Clarke marveled at his silent strength, how he seemed so composed and focused even when she knew there was a good chance he was thinking about Octavia and leaving her behind.

“Are you ok?” she questioned.

Bellamy recoiled slightly, not out of anger, but of surprise. His eyes flitted over her before finding their way back to the road, only one hand on the wheel now as he leaned back. It hurt Clarke to realize how little Bellamy expected from those around him. All she had done was ask one simple question about him and he seemed taken aback, surprised. He did everything for others and expected nothing in return and Clarke couldn’t even fully comprehend how _good_ he was.

If her dad had lived long enough to find out she was dating Bellamy Blake, Clarke was fairly sure the first thing he would have done was laugh. He had sat through a few of their arguments back in the day, and Clarke imagined he would have found the transition absolutely hilarious. She remembered how they used to interact, and even to her it seemed sort of ridiculous how far they had come. Knowing her dad, though, she was fairly sure there would have been a part of him that had totally called it.

Thinking about him sent a pang of longing through her. She would never get to tell him about Bellamy, never get to have him move her into her dorm room, never call him over the phone crying because of stress or have him walk her down the aisle, and all of it seemed distinctly unfair. Clarke had realized, though, that life did not care about unfair, and the world most definitely did not owe her anything.

It didn’t stop the ache in her gut or make her miss him any less, though.

“I’m fine,” he replied with a head nod. Bellamy turned away just to turn back, releasing a sigh. “Stop looking at me all skeptical, I actually mean it. I have to let go at some point, right?”

“That’s very mature of you,” Clarke spoke.

“Hey! I’m always mature,” he exclaimed.

“I beg to differ.” Clarke laughed as Bellamy stared at her with a playful expression, eyes wide and mouth hanging comically open. “I didn’t mean it as a bad thing -- everyone needs to be a little immature sometimes. We’d explode if we didn’t let off some steam every once in a while.”

Bellamy scoffed.

“What?” she exclaimed.

“Princess, you’re the most uptight person I know.”

Clarke thought about the words, her eyebrows scrunching together as she did so. She _was_ uptight. In High School Clarke had always thought the world would fall apart if she didn’t get every single thing done on time, every little thing done to perfection. Her mother had built her to strive for perfection because nothing less was worth doing at all, or so she had always said. In the last month, though, Clarke had found that just because you did something right didn’t mean your life would stay sound, unaffected.

Being around all of her friends, doing things on a whim and reacting to whatever challenges the world threw at them, had left her releasing her tight grip on the reins. Bellamy’s laugh when she did something that surprised him was worth every anxiety over stepping off the path for a detour, and she had found herself trying to elicit it with increasing frequency.

“Be safe,” Bellamy stated. “I’ll be back in an hour or two.”

“Thank you,” she sang through a smile, the words practically coated in sugar. Clarke moved forward and kissed Bellamy’s cheek before pulsing out of the car and toward the edge of the canyon.

Just as she predicted, Clarke got entirely lost in her art. As soon as the sun started to flitter across the rocks, she was more than glad she had remembered to bring her craypas. Her fingers became covered in reds and yellows and oranges, but her mind felt clear and light and Clarke really could not find it in herself to care. Before she even had an impulse to check the time, hours having passed without her notice, Raven was sitting herself down next to her and handing over a donut.

“Can I see?” Raven asked. Clarke nodded, handing the sketchpad over in exchange for the donut. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks.” Clarke’s knees came up and she rested her elbows on them, sighing slightly as she looked at the view in front of her. Her dad was right, it was incredible that the world had done this all on its own. Some things, she decided, were perfect just the way they were, untouched and unaltered. “I’m going to be ok, you know.”

Raven turned toward her, a content smile on her face. “Yea?”

Clarke nodded. “I mean, I don’t think I’ll ever be fully ok, I’ll always miss him. But it’s like _knowing_ that everything isn’t going to be ok, just knowing, makes it a little less scary.”

“I’m very proud of you,” Raven replied.

“You sound like my mom,” Clarke scoffed.

“I just meant you’re a fighter, Clarke. I haven’t liked seeing you so lost, but I'm always here for you.” Raven smiled down at the art again, running a finger over a section of the picture and pulling it up, looking at the colors coating her finger. “You’re letting go so you can be ok. I’ve always thought you held on a little too tight, anyways.”

“It’s easier to hold on tight,” she reasoned.

“Meh,” Raven responded. “Maybe, sometimes. Sometimes, it just means you miss out on a lot.”

“Have I been a bad friend? I’ve made everything about me, I’ve-”

“Clarke,” Raven interjected, a light laugh puffing out with the name, “you’re the only person I know who could possibly feel bad about being selfish after the death of their father. I know you’ve convinced yourself that the rest of us can’t survive without you constantly worrying about us, but we’re all grown up. You and Bellamy don’t have to play Mom and Dad all the time.”

“I know,” Clarke agreed, nodding slowly. She rested her head on Raven’s shoulder, the two of them sighing together. “I just love you so much. I want you to be happy.”

“And I am! But it isn’t your job to worry about it or make sure it happens. You’ve got too much weight on your shoulders, Clarkie, you might want to try to release some of it.”

“So smart… do you even need to go to college?” Clarke exclaimed. Raven threw her head back with a laugh, shaking her head as she turned toward her. “Really! I think you should just drop out now, not waste the money.”

“Ok, you smartass. We still have another day or two of driving in front of us, time to get back on the road,” Raven stated. “You soak up this view enough?”

Clarke nodded, letting Raven grab her hands and pull her up to her feet. Her eyes trailed over the canyon one last time, taking in the view. Somewhere, wherever he was, Clarke sent her father a well wish, a special thought. She didn’t know if she believed in Heaven, but if it existed she knew her father would be there, and she hoped with all of her heart that he heard it.

* * *

“Do you think we should stop?” Bellamy whispered.

“Bellamy Blake!” Clarke gasped mockingly, whipping her gaze toward him with wide eyes and a hand to her chest. “Are you admitting you need sleep?”

“They clearly do,” he replied, motioning to Finn and Raven’s sleeping forms in the back.

“I think you’re just weak,” Clarke responded. “I could take over if you want to get there fast, you can rest in the back seat.”

Bellamy looked over to her, something soft in his eyes, before he reached forward and kissed her soundly on the lips. “Why rush?” he breathed. “Let’s take our time.”

“Well, I’m not opposed to that,” she spoke airly back. Her eyes felt heavy, but not with sleep; it was something else, something that left them hooded and her stomach with a heated twist pulling at something she hadn’t felt for quite some time.

Fifteen minutes later Clarke was pushed up against the side of Bellamy’s car, the cool metal hitting her bare shoulders in a stark contrast to the heat of Bellamy’s body in front of her. His hands were solid on her waist, his lips eager but unsure as they drastically switched from her lips to her neck, trailing sweet kisses wherever they moved.

“Finn and Raven are still in the backseat,” Clarke said as Bellamy pulled away for a second, taking a breath.

“And your point is…” he trailed off, raising a single eyebrow.

“I don’t necessarily want them waking up and getting in our business, do you? Should we let them know we’re here?” Clarke questioned. Truthfully, any second Clarke spent without contact with Bellamy right now would feel like a waste of her time, like she was holding her breath when all she wanted to do was suck in fresh air, but it was hard to ignore her innate moral compass, or more accurately, her desire to watch out for her friends.

“And waste the empty motel room we currently have? Princess, who do you think I am?”

“I forgot you’re a rotten bastard,” Clarke joked, her hands trailing up his stomach and looping around his neck. “We can’t just let our friends sleep out here all night, that’s a little low even for you.”

“Since when did Finn become one of your friends?” Bellamy questioned. He didn’t seem jealous or upset, merely curious, and Clarke pondered the question herself.

When had she let the majority of her anger go? She had let it slip away without even realizing it, and though there was a part of her that would always hold on to what he had done, that would never be able to forgive him for his crime, she knew the vengeful part of herself that was angry simply because it was the easiest thing to be, because forgiving was so goddamn difficult, had let the rage flutter off like sand percolating through open fingers. A little always stayed stuck to your sweaty palms, enough to keep the thought of it at the back of your mind, but ultimately gone. 

“I’ve been trying to let a lot of things go, recently,” Clarke declared. “I’m a whole new me.”

“I don’t want a whole new you,” he whispered, his face dangerously close, his breath brushing delicately over her skin. “You never have to change because I or anyone else wants you to,” he continued, coming up and brushing hair behind her right ear.

Clarke leaned into the touch, reveling in the closeness. “I know, but I’ve been holding on to a little too much, Bell. I’ve been strangling myself because I’d gotten so used to feeling like I couldn’t breath. I’m changing for me, just a little bit, but I’ll always be Clarke. I’ll always have the part of me that can’t stand your stupid smirks or when you think you’re always right.”

Bellamy smirked as if almost to spite her, which she expected he probably had. “There’s a part of you that kinda loves when I smirk, though, right? That kinda…” Bellamy trailed off, bringing his lips so close to her own that they were practically ghosting over them, “ _craves_ it.”

Clarke yanked him forward, kissing him fiercely. Her tongue licked over his lips, asking for entrance, and as he happily complied she pulled herself as close as she could to him. His hands tugged a little too tightly over her hips, but the bite of it was like an anchor holding her to reality, holding her to Bellamy, and she couldn’t help but relish in it.

“Wait,” Bellamy stated, pulling back. Their foreheads lingered on one anothers, their faces still close and their breaths intermingling in front of them, “mean it.”

“What?”

“I mean,” he began, his eyes pleading with her to understand, “that I can’t just be part of your decision to let go for a while, and when suddenly you decide you liked the old way better you throw me out in the trash, too.”

Clarke’s hands moved toward his face, cupping his cheeks. She rubbed her thumbs soothingly over his skin, her head leaning to the side as she shot him an understanding smile. With all of her heart, Clarke wished she could go back in time and fix Bellamy’s life from the seams just so he could see how loved, how full of worth, he was. It killed her to know how low he must see himself, how he could even think for a second Clarke could ever just throw him in the trash.

“I think you’ve been doing some changing, too, Blake,” Clarke spoke. “When did you get so goshdarn sentimental?”

“I’m sentimental when I let people in.” Bellamy paused, a sweet smile sliding over his lips. “I let _you_ in.”

Clarke’s breath halted before fluttering out, her smile growing at the edges of her lips. “I’d never toss you,” she assured him, letting her hands fall from his cheeks. She grabbed on to his left hand, tugging him toward the motel room. “Now, let’s use this room before they realize the car isn’t moving anymore, yea?”

“We’ll get them in an hour,” Bellamy compromised, lazily backing Clarke up to the bed.

“An hour,” Clarke agreed, nodding soundly. Her knees suddenly hit the edge of the bed, and the two of them fell together backwards, tangling together over the sheets.

Now that they were laying down, Bellamy’s hands seemed to roam more freely, running up and down her sides. His hand halted as it ran over the bandage Clarke had forgotten to remove earlier that day, and she flung her head backwards as she realized what was going to happen next.

“You never mentioned a second tattoo,” he stated, both eyebrows raising upward.

His fingers peeled away the bandage before she could even attempt to stop him, his eyes widening as they took in the view of the crown. A breath stuck in his throat, and for a little bit Clarke couldn’t quite figure out what emotion it was flickering across his face, but then a smile stretched wide and the answer came loud and clear.

“Princess, eh?”

“Oh, shut up.” Clarke rolled her eyes.

Bellamy leaned forward, unable to keep himself from kissing her. His lips moved quickly but skillfully, willing her to feel what he felt. She matched it, hoping for him to understand that she did. She felt exactly what he felt, the two of them bonded by something primal, almost instinctual, and even when he said nothing at all she _knew_. Because Bellamy and Clarke were a pair to be reckoned with, two people who, though strong alone, found an extra strength in being together.

Pulling back, Bellamy whispered into her lips, “ _Princess_ ,” full of need and passion and _want_.

And Clarke was fairly sure she had never heard anything quite so beautiful before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! It was really fun to write!


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After arriving in San Francisco, the gang attends a wedding...that they may or may not have been invited to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been in a really bad headspace recently which is why it has taken me so long to get this chapter up. I'm not even sure how confident I feel in it, but I can't leave you guys waiting any longer so I hope you enjoy it :)

“I’m not doing this,” Clarke repeated again, but the words seemed to have no affect on Raven who continued to rifle through dresses on the rack. “Seriously, Raven, I _can’t_.”

Raven's hands stopped, and she lifted her eyes to Clarke, raising a single eyebrow and releasing a soft breath. “Clarke, what happened to you letting go? Remember? The thing you said literally 24 hours ago?”

Clarke sighed, leaning her body on the clothing rack next to her. It rattled as she did so, and she quickly stood back up, holding the rack stable so it wouldn’t fall to the ground. She was far too tired for this, but that’s what happened when you let someone distract you into the early hours of the morning and your friends were still well-rested.

While Raven and Finn had been up and chipper at 8, Bellamy and Clarke were still exhausted. It was the good kind of exhausted, Clarke admitted to herself, the kind of exhaustion that brought a sort of giddiness to it. Or maybe that was just Bellamy and the way Clarke felt like she could still feel his hands, his warmth, his everything tingling straight down into her toes.

It hadn’t been a long drive even with the two of them fighting through sleep and Raven and Finn excitedly chattering the whole time. They’d rolled into the city right around noon after all the delays, and Clarke was surprised and relieved to find out that Bellamy knew someone who lived in San Francisco they could stay with. It wasn’t that they were running low on funds or anything, but Clarke had worried about the high prices of the city killing all of their savings.

Wick had been at work when they went to his apartment to drop off their things. After a quick phone call Bellamy found out where the spare key was and let them all in, the group collapsing in different corners of the apartment. Raven became oddly fascinated in some project Wick had left on the counter, wasting no time as she threw her hair up into a ponytail and began writing all over his plans. Clarke sure hoped Wick had a patience worthy of the debate that that would probably lead to.

“Wick told me something else,” Bellamy spoke, throwing himself practically on top of Clarke on the couch. She yelped, moving forward to give him more room and ignoring the eye roll from Raven Clarke felt like she could hear from across the room.

“And what would that be?” Finn questioned, raising his eyes from his computer screen for only a minute.

“He’s going to a wedding tonight,” Bellamy answered.

“We have to crash it!” Raven exclaimed, whipping her whole body toward them.  

“No,” Clarke exclaimed, but she knew she was already fighting a losing battle at the way Bellamy and Finn both perked up.

“I agree with Raven,” Finn spoke, setting his laptop down and giving the room his full attention. “Before you object, Clarke-”

“I’ve already objected.” Clarke stumbled up into a sitting position, pushing Bellamy’s hands off of her waist as he grabbed at her to bring her back closer to him. She stuck her tongue out, eyeing him over her shoulder, but he seemed to be completely unbothered, sending a large smile back in return.

“Look at it this way,” Finn continued. “We’ve hit so many milestones of a road trip. We’ve broken down, had a stranger help us, picked _up_ a stranger, gotten tattoos, karaoke… why wouldn’t we complete the set?”

“Why is sneaking our way into a wedding completing the set?” Clarke questioned.

“It’s fun,” Raven replied with a shrug.

“You sound like Octavia,” she responded.

“Well, someone has to force you into  fun when she’s not around.”

Clarke paused, thinking over the words. She didn’t want to always be this person, afraid to do things because they made her uncomfortable, but she just felt like it was an unnecessary risk. Why would someone take it when they didn’t have to? A part of her, a big part of her, still yanked at her at the thought of any response other than no, but she looked at Raven and Finn’s excitement, Bellamy’s challenging eyebrow, and shrugged her shoulders.

Which was how, hours later, she found herself rifling through racks of dresses at the local mall instead of resting on a couch or sightseeing. Raven was having way more fun than she usually did at malls or during shopping, piling options in her arms as she waited for Clarke to find at least one thing she could try on with her.

“We’re doing this, remember, Clarke? Now grab something to try on.”

“Fine,” she grumbled, glancing at the rack briefly before yanking a black dress off. Turning, she noticed Raven looking at her with a sense of disgust. “What?”

“That’s a dress your mom would have picked out for you,” she answered, turning toward the rack. She grabbed an orange dress, strappier and definitely tighter, and held it up to Clarke's body before nodding happily. “Try something like this. Now, you coming?”

Clarke eyed the dress, running her hands over the smooth fabric. Dressing up in the past had always meant having to have her mother’s approval, and she had never argued. What was the point? Her father would just come in a little bit later and find the two of them, calming her mother down with a few words about compromise and throwing a joke Clarke’s way. She always ended up wearing the dress, maybe with a piece of jewelry she had picked or her own hairstyle choice, but always the one her mother had wanted.

Right now she was doing almost the same thing. Arguing with Raven did nothing, they were going to go to this wedding tonight whether she wanted to or not, and why in the world wouldn’t she want to go? It was just her desire for sleep and her anxiety that was stopping her, nothing else, nothing truly substantial. The worst that could possibly happen would be getting kicked out, and in the end at least it would be a good story.

Clarke was pushing her way through the whole shopping endeavor because her initial reaction had been of trepidation, but she was here and they were going to do it no matter what she said or did, so she might as well let herself have some fun. “You know,” she began, turning back toward the rack with a newfound excitement, “I’m going to grab a few more. I’ll be in there in a minute.”

Raven beamed back at her, shaking her stack before rushing to the rooms in the back. Clarke felt a smile stretch across her own face, and as she turned back toward the rows of dresses she felt the sudden elation bubble up. She may have not thought this was such a good idea, but hell if she wasn’t going to do it looking as hot as hell.

* * *

“ _Damn_ ,” Raven stated, “that dress really does look amazing on you. Bellamy is going to weep on the fucking floor.”

Clarke turned over her shoulder, watching as the dress glittered with her turn. She had never been one much for vanity, but Raven was right. The dress fit her to perfection, emphasizing her curves, and Clarke couldn’t help but feel kind of like the princess Bellamy always liked to jokingly call her. With her hair off of her face in a loose bun and her skin practically glowing, she couldn’t have felt more magnificent if she tried.

“I could use some help on my eye shadow,” Clarke replied.

“Welcome to my office,” she responded. “Take a seat.”

Raven laid out her brushes and palettes on the small bedside table, her previously energetic face turning to a much more serious one. Clarke recognized the look from all of the times she’d seen Raven attack an engine or a pile of random scraps, preparing to do the impossible that she always managed to pull off. There was no doubt that Raven could do the very same with her makeup.

“Wick’s cute,” Clarke spoke as she closed her eyes. Even without her sight Clarke knew Raven was probably sending her a nasty look, eyes narrowed and lips pursed.

“What does that mean, Griffin?”

“Resorting to last names? That’s just cruel.”

“Clarke…” she trailed off.

“I’m just saying! I felt a spark,” she reasoned.

“Really? That’s not good, you’re supposed to be all over Bellamy.”

“Very funny, Reyes.”

“Resorting to last names? That’s just _cruel_ ,” Raven mocked, chuckling as Clarke stuck her tongue out at her.

It was true, as far as Clarke was concerned, there _had_ been sparks. After coming back from the mall, Raven had sat herself down at the counter again, playing with the scraps of electrical wires and whatever else Wick had left lying around, when Wick came bounding through the front door.

“Hel _lo,_ everybody!” he called, stepping over the threshold and tossing his keys into a dish by the front door. He took one more step, still smiling wide, before his eyes found Raven at the counter. “What are you doing?”

“This is _tragic_ ,” she responded, raising her eyebrows. Her hands were holding a blueprint to something, flapping it in front of her face before hitting it back down onto the counter.

“That has _vision_.”

“And no follow through. You engineers always think you’re God’s gift to everyone, but the truth is you’re just creating schematics for things that need to be fixed.”

“Let me take a wild guess and assume you mean fixed by you? What are you, a mechanic?”

Raven spread her smirk into a wide smile on purpose, her face mocking his words, and Clarke was surprised to see Wick return the gesture. He crossed his arms in front of him, taking a step forward until she was unsure if she was really seeing them that close or she was just making it up.

“Did we used to do that?” Clarke whispered as Bellamy joined her, the two of them quirking their heads to the side as they surveyed the scene in front of them.

“Hm…” Bellamy crossed his arms, watching as Raven started poking Wick’s chest with every argument. “Nah.”

“Oh no, you definitely were,” Finn stated, flying past them into the kitchen. “100%.”

Raven brought Clarke back to the present with a tap to her shoulder, announcing her to be finished. Looking in the mirror, Clarke felt even more glamorous with her smoky eyes and perfect eyeliner. If she was smarter, Clarke would probably stop being surprised by Raven's constant perfection. Her drive made her nearly perfect at everything she tried, even something as trivial as blending shades on an eyelid.

“You’re a genius,” Clarke declared.

“That’s what they tell me.”

“Well, the genius still needs to get her dress on,” she pointed out.

Raven looked down at herself, laughing as if she had almost forgotten, and moved toward the closet where she had hung it up earlier. Proving yet again just how little shame Raven had, she flung her clothes off and slipped into her dress.

“And you think I look hot,” Clarke said, trailing her eyes up and down the vivid crimson dress Raven currently had adorning her body. There was much more skin than Clarke would ever feel comfortable revealing, but Raven’s constant confidence shone through with every movement of fabric and look she gave. The dress looked absolutely stunning on Raven, but it was the confidence that truly looked great on her.

“Any guy not salivating as we walk by should automatically be slayed,” Raven stated. She slid her hands over her hips, smoothing the fabric that was already perfectly in place. “You gotta thank crazy brides who think their weddings deserve black tie attire for everyone.”

“Yes, you do. Now, you ready to hit it?”

Raven nodded, grabbing her clutch and linking her arm through Clarke’s as they made their way through the doorway, down the hall, and into the living space. It felt a little empty to not have Octavia with them, to not have her exuberant energy and constant giggles, but Clarke figured she was enjoying her time with Lincoln and Wells just fine. Sometimes, for the people you love to be happiest, you just have to let them go.

Bellamy whistled long and low at their grand entrance, winking at Clarke as the two of them came to a rest. “I’m sure as hell glad I’m allowed to do this,” Bellamy said as he stepped forward, planting a kiss on Clarke’s lips.

After a few brief moments of feeling both heavy and light, heat and bliss, Clarke regrettably pulled away. It was hard to tell time with Bellamy’s lips on her own, with the two of them so close, because when he was near he was like a perfect escape from everything that held her down. The two of them together, the collision it caused, seemed like a transcendence of time entirely.

“You clean up nice,” Clarke whispered, letting her gaze run up and down Bellamy’s suit-clad form. Bellamy was always attractive, but there was something about the foreign nature of seeing him all dressed up that had Clarke’s stomach doing somersaults.

“Yea, yea, yea.” Raven broke the moment, grabbing on to Clarke’s upper arm and pulling her toward the door. “To the wedding we go!”

* * *

Wick promised them all in the car that they would arrive at the perfect time, hand selected by himself for the optimal entrance. Apparently, Wick didn’t mind socializing, but he much preferred the crest of the party then the awkward beginnings and did almost anything in his power to avoid them. Which was why they had waited for the dinner portion of the evening to commence before sliding in unnoticed, the music up and running, pounding around them so fiercely Clarke swore she could practically feel it in her teeth.

“Is this an open bar?” Raven asked Wick.

“It’s a black tie wedding, what do you think?” he challenged.

“Perfect.” Raven stepped toward the bar, looking over her shoulder and throwing a smirk. “Come on, I’ll buy you a drink.”

“They’re free,” Wick replied as he joined her side, “so maybe I’ll buy you one.”

The two of them clamored off in search of drinks, teasing each other the whole way, and Clarke turned back to the two remaining members of their group. Bellamy was standing just as she had last seen him, but Finn was suddenly nowhere in sight. “Where’s Finn?”

Bellamy nodded his head behind her, and Clarke whipped back around. He was sitting himself down next to a tiny girl; she smiled shyly over at him, pushing her long dark hair delicately behind her ear. Clarke wasn’t sure if he was actually interested in her or just trying to be nice, offer a lifeline to a shy girl sitting by herself, but either way Clarke smiled at the scene. As misguided as Finn could be at times, sometimes he knew the exact right thing to do.

“Would the princess like to dance?”

“The princess would _really_ like to dance,” Clarke answered, grabbing onto the hand Bellamy offered and stepping onto the dance floor.

Clarke, like she always did when she danced, let the music completely take over. Her and Bellamy danced  each song with no worry or self-consciousness or _anything_ holding them back, simply letting themselves move to the music just the way they wanted to.

A few songs in Finn joined them, bringing the small girl (Fox, Clarke learned her name was) with him. Clarke welcomed her into the fold, dancing with her just the way she would Raven and Octavia, and she found she loved the way Fox threw her head back with laughter once she had let herself truly go. Some people just needed a helping hand to be themselves, to forget about their nerves, and Clarke smiled over at Finn for seeing something in someone when so many would have never even have given her a second glance.

The songs slowed, and before Clarke could even turn toward Bellamy and ask him to dance with her, he was already pulling her to him. The smile that spread across her face was slow as molasses and just as sweet, and Clarke couldn’t fight it off of her face as she laced her fingers through his, her other arm coming up and laying itself over his shoulder.

“If you could make any wish right now, what would you wish for?” Clarke whispered, resting her head onto his chest. She could hear his heart beat, steady and comforting as it kept time with their shuffling feet and the rhythm of the music.

“Honestly? I don’t even know what I’d wish for,” he admitted, releasing a sigh after his words. “Maybe for this moment to never end, to be able to stay away from reality for a-”

“Let’s not talk about reality,” Clarke replied. “Just this once, for this singular instance, how about we pretend this moment _will_ never end.”

Clarke pulled her face back slowly from the comfort of his chest, meeting his warm gaze, and despite how warm it was, Clarke couldn’t help but shiver underneath it. Bellamy moved forward, resting his forehead on her own for a beat, their breaths intermingling in front of them.

“Well, if this moment is going to last forever, I think I’d like to kiss you.”

Clarke bit her lip, trying to pull in the wide smile that was threatening to burst across her face. “You smooth talker, Blake.”

“So, is that a no?”

“I didn’t say that.”

His lips were soft, tentative, definitely different than the passion and urgency of the night before, but it wasn’t better or worse, just _different_. It felt like coming home after a long day, like slipping inside for the relief of air conditioning when the sun was sweltering outside, and Clarke melted into it, into _him_. It was like Bellamy was trying to tell her something so important it couldn't properly be told through words, and luckily for him, Clarke understood without them.

Because she felt the same way too.

And swaying in that slightly too hot ballroom, in that eternal moment, Clarke was willing to argue that everything felt as close to perfect as it had been in a hell of a long time.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke takes her final step toward finishing her goal with her friends all by her side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been an absolutely incredible experience, and I'm sorry for all of the ups and downs this fic has taken, but I hope you enjoy this last little taste of open roads, open hearts. I had originally thought there was going to be two or three more chapters, but in the end I think this was the right place to end it. I would love to know your final thoughts on this fic after everything. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with this and voting for it in the bellarke fanfiction awards (I can't even describe how much winning that award meant to me) and without further ado, the thrilling conclusion of open roads, open hearts!

“Are you awake?” Clarke whispered. She tried to turn around, to see Bellamy’s face as she asked the question, but she was planted too firmly in her bed to properly do so. Truthfully it was almost stifling, the heat from the fluffy down comforter and Bellamy’s body wrapped closely behind her own, but she couldn’t find it in herself to be frustrated at it, not when this felt so close to getting what she had always wanted.

The things she had always wanted, she had found, didn’t come nicely packaged. They were rough, unexpected, not entirely what she had asked for but when it all came together it was surprisingly _good_. She hurt, still felt more roughly sewn back together than whole, but Clarke had realized recently that even broken she was capable of doing a lot more than she had ever anticipated.

“No,” Bellamy grumbled behind her, and she could feel the answer rumble through his chest with its proximity to her own.

“You’re very cognisant of the world asleep,” she replied, finally nuzzling her way so her face was at least lying on his chest, his sleepy form half visible as she looked up through her eyelashes at him.

Bellamy opened his own eyes slowly, taking her in below him with a sense of skepticism, narrowing his eyes before his rough demeanor was shattered by an obnoxiously loud yawn. Clarke giggled, biting her lip to stifle the laughter, but it ripped out of her anyway. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had actually _giggled_. It was such a ridiculous gesture, so juvenile in her eyes, but something felt so puerile and exhilarating about it.

“Why are you keeping me from sleep, Griffin? You want to have pillow talk at eight in the morning?”

“You’re acting like eight in the morning is really early,” she shot back, raising a single eyebrow. Bellamy’s arms finally loosened as he shifted in the bed, and Clarke took her opportunity to spread out, continuing to rest her head on his chest but finally capable of fully seeing him. Him with his tousled hair and dark brown eyes fighting to stay open, his chest raising and lowering slowly with each casual breath. Beautiful, she decided as she released a soft sigh, absolutely beautiful.

“It is when you go to bed at four in the morning.” Though his words held the littlest bit of bite, Clarke could tell from the lopsided smile he was shooting her way he wasn’t actually upset.

“You don’t think Raven is going to be like… _heartbroken_ or anything when we leave, do you?”

Bellamy groaned, throwing his head back into the pillows and shutting his eyes. “This is about Reyes and fucking _Wick_? You do know your best friend, right?”

“Hey! Don’t get all insult-y.”

“I’m sorry, but we’re having this ridiculous conversation when I could be sleeping right now. It’s in my DNA to be rude.”

“I know Raven doesn’t really get upset over guys, especially when she barely knows them, but I’d just feel so horrible if I somehow loosely messed up her plan, you know? I don’t want to hurt her.”

“Raven has control over her life, trust me. She doesn’t make a move she hasn’t thought through, and if she does, she deals with the consequences of her actions like she always does. Not your job to worry.”

Not her job. Clarke wanted to slap herself in the face. There she went again, worrying about something that wasn’t in her control, something she shouldn’t have to worry about. Obviously Raven knew what she was doing, she was one of the most confident, capable, in control people Clarke had ever known. If Raven really didn’t think doing something was smart she wouldn’t have done it, simple as that.

“You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” Bellamy replied, and Clarke rolled her eyes as his lips slipped into a smirk. “Plus, it’s not like they’re in love, they just fucked.”

“Wait!” she exclaimed, pushing herself further up and looking curiously at Bellamy. “They slept together?”

“I’m sorry, you _didn’t_ hear them last night? Why were you worrying if you didn’t know they had sex last night?”

“Because I’m a concerned friend who saw them doing the arguing eye sex thing that _we_ used to do and look how fucking awesome that turned out-”

“Aw,” Bellamy interjected, leaning forward and placing a sloppy kiss on Clarke’s cheek, “love you too, babe.”

“Oh, shut up,” Clarke groaned, the grunt turning swiftly into peals of laughter as he continued to place the kisses all over her face. She jolted out as he grazed her side, accidentally tickling her, and her laughter only flew out of her faster, heartier, as he groaned and rubbed at his abdomen where she had elbowed him. “I’m a little concerned about the fact that you were paying attention to them having sex last night when we were having sex, though.”

Bellamy paused, eyeing Clarke curiously. “Princess… we _didn’t_ have sex last night.”

“Wait, are you serious?”

“You were passed out by the time I came back from the bathroom,” Bellamy explained, a sense of humor laced throughout his words.

“Wow, that was a really good dream I had then,” Clarke responded.

“Was I good?” he teased, leaning closer. Bellamy’s hands roamed to her hips, grabbing soundly onto them and tugging her closer. The action flipped the two of them, Clarke now looking up at Bellamy as he laid slightly over her.

Clarke smirked in response, bringing a hand up to tangle itself among his curls and yanking him closer so she could whisper in his ear. “You’ve got a _lot_ to live up to, that’s all I’m saying.”

“I’ll just have to try my best,” he whispered, hovering over her neck before kissing his way upward, trailing her jaw before finding her lips again, the two of them coming together, still sleepy but pulsing forward with a sudden heat. “I should probably go back to bed.”

“You probably shouldn’t,” she replied, the two of them still close enough to feel the other’s breaths. Their lips were barely inches apart, begging to be pulled back together, as Clarke and Bellamy stared at each other.

“If I don’t I’ll be tired all day,” he teased. “You have to give me a better reason to stay up.”

“If we’re tired, we’ll be cranky, which means fights which means hot, anger sex later today,” she supplied, biting her lip to hide the wide smile that followed as he threw his head back with a laugh.

“You’re perfect.”

“This _is_ true.”

“You just use me for my body,” Bellamy responded, finally conquering the near invisible gap between them. Clarke’s other hand joined the first one in his hair, tugging lightly at his thick curls as he leaned into her. All she wanted was to feel him closer, to have him nearer, and she shifted to the left, letting him lay between her legs as she pulled him flush against herself.

Clarke pulled back, the two of them breathing heavy as she smirked over.

“Also true.”

* * *

“You gave me a fucking hickey,” Clarke hissed, narrowing her eyes as they continued on the path.

Raven was 15 or so feet ahead of them, powering ahead and barely breaking a sweat (not that that was a surprise to Clarke or anything, Raven was a _beast_ ), Wick and Finn fighting to stay somewhere near her but with a little more evident effort. Hiking right next to her, Bellamy appeared to be taking each step with as much ease as the last, and Clarke spited him and Raven for their innate athleticism.

“Don’t be mad,” Bellamy replied, raising his brows as if expecting an apology, “or do be mad. If you’re mad do we get to have the anger sex you were talking about earlier?”

“I’m not mad, just frustrated,” Clarke clarified. “I just really fucking hate hickeys, they’re so trashy.”

“I just wanted to claim you as my own,” he joked, hitting his shoulder with her own.

Clarke’s eyes practically flashed with vexation, and if looks could kill, Bellamy would have most certainly been on the ground. “Don’t even joke about that! We are not medieval, we are a very progressive and equal partnered relationship!”

“Woah, tiger, I’m sorry. It was a joke made in poor taste, apologies,” he replied, throwing his hands up in surrender.

“How long do you think we have to go before we’re there?” she questioned, letting the situation slide away.

Bellamy shrugged his shoulders, readjusting the hat perched on his head. Clarke tried to keep her eyes forward for the sake of her safety as they hiked, but there was something incredibly tantalizing in the way Bellamy swiped his hand through his hair before setting the hat soundly on his head. “Not long.”

Not long was right. Only a handful of minutes later Clarke was walking her final steps up the slight incline and then there it was, like the scene was all laid out right in front of her _just_ for her, shining bright and beautiful and better than she could have ever expected. It brought a sudden itch at the back of her eyes, like tears might just start up at any moment, and she rushed forward to get closer to everything.

She’d seen the bridge as they drove to the hiking trails obviously, seen it as a background earlier in the day as they walked through the city to hunt for something for breakfast (it became abundantly clear as Clarke rifled through Wick’s fridge only to find half a pint of milk and a bag of grapes that he didn’t shop very frequently), but it wasn’t like it was now.

The light revealed it was a little past midday, brightly shining off of the red and leaving the water below it bright and blue. She wondered if this image in front of her was really brighter than the rest of the world or if she had merely imagined it, most likely the latter, but everything in front of her seemed so much more vibrant than any other place could hope to ever be.

It was almost like walking straight into a memory, something oddly familiar about it, like somehow her dad’s old faint fairytales had painted a scene in front of her she had never realized he had been talking about. Half of the time her father had talked, he painted his stories in the most magical of ways, though, so she knew he must have just done the same to his time here, to the things he had seen.

Jake used to come home from medical conferences and his trips and, instead of going straight to sleep, always found Clarke first. He would lay down in bed next to her, painting stories in front of her eyes of mundane things that always seemed so much more beautiful than reality could ever have them be. When she had gotten older he had turned a little more realistic, the stories flung over quick dinners or phone calls when he had been called into work right away, but it was impossible to beat the fantastical tones out of his voice.

Clarke thought she would miss those stories until the day she died, and if she could get even a few words of one again, of the utter excitement he used to spill them with, she would do just about anything.

Reality didn’t fail her this time, though, because as mundane as a bridge should be, the whole scene in front of her felt charged by something unreal. She could feel her dad in the red-painted metal and the wide expanse and the steady flow of vehicles that were as constant as the water below it, though quiet from the distance that laid between the bridge and Clarke; she could feel it all, and for the briefest of moments Clarke could almost swear she felt her dad standing right beside her.

“You ok, Clarke?”

Clarke snapped out of it, turning toward Raven with a watery smile and nodding slightly. “Yea, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Clarke, you’re crying.”

Reaching up to her face, Clarke felt the moistness underneath her fingertips. “Oh,” she exclaimed, laughing softly underneath her breath. “I am. I could have sworn for a moment he was right here, right beside me, but he won’t ever be again, and I really miss him.”

“Not physically,” Raven replied, “but gone doesn’t mean forgotten.”

“No,” Clarke replied, nodding her head, “it really doesn’t.”

Clarke couldn’t forget her dad if she had tried, he was too much of her past, of the person she was today, for anything to ever wash him away from her memories. He would still be there through everything, even if it wasn’t physically, helping to guide her, and the thought in itself was beyond comforting. She still missed him so much, so deeply, but even though he was dead he wasn’t _gone_ , and though that sounded absolutely ridiculous to Clarke, it was also real. He would be there with her, every step of the way, _always_.

But he wasn’t the only person that would be by her side through everything, and Raven’s familiar weight of a presence next to Clarke reminded her of that. She was so lucky to have her friends, to have Bellamy, to have her mother (God, she couldn’t believe she was even saying that, but sometimes things really _do_ change), and no matter what challenge she would have to face next (along with the challenge she was still facing, the weight that was still prevalent on her shoulders), she wasn’t scared. How could she be? With all of them at her flank, it would take something mighty strong to take them all down.

Something between a squeal and a scream ripped through the air from her left, and Clarke looked over to see Bellamy and Wick in a heavy debate about something, Bellamy’s hat lying several feet away from them and a wipe of dirt down Wick’s shirt. Finn looked on, rubbing a hand down his face as he looked weighed down with a thick desire to be anywhere else. Raven scoffing to her right, Clarke turned back toward her.

“So, you and Wick?”

“Me and Wick?” Raven exclaimed, shaking her head. “God no.”

“The sex that bad?” Clarke joked.

“Truthfully?” Raven replied. “Best sex of my life.”

“You haven’t had sex with _that_ many people,” Clarke reasoned.

Raven shrugged. “Enough to know that he was good.”

“So, why aren’t you into him?”

“I’ve only known him like a day, and he’s cool, but it’s not right for right now. Maybe someday, but not now.” Raven shrugged. “More to life than boys, you know? He’s cool, but I want to be a badass for a while before I worry about all of that.”

“I fully approve.” Clarke stared at the bench sitting a little ways in front of them, the weight of the pack on her back suddenly heavier than it was before. “I’m going to draw.”

Raven nodded once, smiling over at her. “I’m going to go wrangle the boys.”

The two of them crossed paths, high fiving each other with a brief laugh before moving toward their jobs. As Clarke pulled out her sketch pad, her pencil etching across the paper with a practiced ease, she felt strong, capable, like herself. The last few weeks she had been to hell and back, and though she knew she definitely wasn’t out of the gates yet, she finally felt like she truly knew that everything was going to be just the way it should be.

A few minutes later, as the edges of her sketch started to come together, the bench creaked to her right. She grinned over at Bellamy, stealing his hat and placing it on her own head. In response he wrapped his arm around her neck, placing a kiss on her cheek and half laying his head on hers.

“This feels good,” she declared.

“Yea?”

“Yea,” Clarke confirmed. “This feels like it could be the perfect end; after all the twists and turns, we finally made it here.”

“Princess, we still have to drive all of the way home.”

Clarke groaned. “I know. I’m just saying that this moment feels really… good.”

“Well, I’m glad.”

Bellamy stayed right at her side, doing nothing but looking out at the view in front of them. With the safety of his gaze somewhere else, Clarke allowed herself to skim her eyes over him. He felt so right next to her, and Clarke marveled at the fact that sometimes the things you actually deeply _need_ were surprising, and in some ways Bellamy had been the most surprising thing she had ever experienced.

Despite what others had said about the two of them, it had been unexpected for Clarke, but now being familiar with the heat of him cuddled behind her, seeing the way Bellamy laid his eyes on her when he wasn’t aware she knew he was looking at her, she knew how right they were together. Her heart told her she was already half in love with him, but for right now she wanted to keep that happy secret all to herself.

Whatever went down when they got home, Clarke would fight for Bellamy through it all. She refused to touch the sun and pull back her hand to find it burned; she would rather be engulfed in the flames, have her and him go down together then leave something because it felt too dangerously real. Clarke had a sneaking suspicion, however, that she would have nothing to worry about. After the chaos and pain and suffering of the last few weeks, she figured they had maybe gone through some of the roughest moments already, and they had faced it all together.

“Mind if we join you?” Finn asked, sitting himself up on the table top instead of down on the seat with the two of them.

Raven and Wick came to the bench a foot or so away from theirs, sitting themselves down and gazing out in front of them. Clarke desperately wished she could have Octavia, Wells, Jasper and Monty, all of them there so they could see the scene in front of them but also do it together. There was something doubly beautiful about looking at the sun hit the Golden Gate Bridge with you friends at your side.

Clarke looked down at the beginnings of her sketch, the outline of the bridge and the lone figure looking down at it, and closed the book. She would finish it, but for right now she didn’t feel the need to.

“You done?” Bellamy asked. Clarke nodded.

“Yes,” she replied. “But let’s just… enjoy this for a little more, ok?”

“I think that sounds like an excellent idea,” Raven spoke, placing her elbows back on the table and reaching her face up to the sun for a brief second. “Why rush?”

The breeze picked up, blowing Clarke’s hair into her face, and something in the air brought a smile, like a buzz of magic she couldn’t ignore. Bellamy’s hand found her own without her even asking for it, and Clarke smiled briefly up to the sky, letting her father know that she knew he had forgiven her for everything, and letting him know that she had forgiven herself, too.

“Why rush,” Clarke agreed, laying her head onto Bellamy’s shoulder. The moment sat in front of them, unbidden, free, like a fruit sitting right there for the taking.

So they let it sit, ripe and ready, for just a little bit longer.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to find me on tumblr -> [castielscrusade](http://castielscrusade.tumblr.com/)  
> I usually accept prompts, by the way, so if you have any bellarke ideas you desperately need written feel free to leave them in my inbox.


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